


A Changing Heart

by CassiopeiaAnjouMalfoy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, this is Not Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 23:04:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 78,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11473524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassiopeiaAnjouMalfoy/pseuds/CassiopeiaAnjouMalfoy
Summary: Hermione Granger returns to Hogwarts for her 8th year amid changes. First, she's not who she thinks she is-prophecies from her mothers past surface. Second, Draco Malfoy returns too-different, studious, and he seems to be part of that prophecy, one he's keen/ interested on fulfilling. Third, she can t stop her mind nor her heart from changing.





	1. House Anjou

House Anjou

Florence, Italy, Summer 1999

Sunlight streamed through the window of the villa. The warmth of it felt like a cozy blanket, and the light of it accented the gold in her hair. Hermione loved it here, it lifted her heart and soothed her soul on so many levels. Since the end of the war, she had needed a change in scenery, so she chose to enrol in a 6-week long Ancient Runes course, which entailed going to various excavation sites throughout Europe. She had been in Florence for a week now, and it was the loveliest place she'd ever been to. Blue in ocean and sienna in sunsets, it stole her breath and sweetened her dreams.

While she travelled, she picked up on several different wizarding customs. As a result, she started dressing and styling her hair differently. She began to take pride in her appearance-not that she didn't before, but it became more of a pleasure than a burden to style herself.

She wore bespoke,tailored dresses now replacing the jumpers and plaids of her youth. Her curls were still wild, but gleamed and bounced with vitality

She sat haphazardly on the enormous bed of the villa with a heavy tome balanced on her knee. History of Magic and Ancient Runes always fascinated her which is why she was here, now. She trailed her fingertips along the page as she read--a book on Welsh Runes, which she would write an essay on due next Thursday.

Suddenly she looked up at the sound of a tiny  _*pop*._ She set her book down and shot up on alert, her wand was in hand a second later before she approached the door--a heavy wooden door with its glass doorknob and ruby encrusted panes, to open it.

A tiny house-elf stood in front of her, holding a heavy cardstock envelope with her name written on it in cursive.

She stared incredulously at the elf before it piped up.

"Good day Miss! I is here to tell you that you're great-grandmother Shirley has passed from this world. You're her heir and Anjou Manor awaits your instruction."

The house elf gazed up at Hermione with large eyes for a moment then handed her the letter only to disappear again with another distinct *pop*.

Hermione stood stunned for a few moments before she closed the door slowly to walk back to the bed. She Accio'd a letter opener to slice open the seal and began to read:

* * *

  _Dear Hermione,_

_My name is Shirley Anjou and I'm your great-grandmother. I've known you all your life. Your mother- my grand-daughter Helen Granger- has been sending me pictures of you since you were born. I would've loved to have met you-- the first Anjou witch to be born to our line in 100 years. I know you're beautiful, and clever from your mother's letters but she hasn't written me in months-which is why I'm writing you. I'm dying pretty Hermione, and because your mother has forsaken her claim to Anjou Manor, it will pass to you. When I retire from this world, I've instructed Tinzy, my house-elf, to bring you this letter._

_I hope you're not too alarmed, but, my love you must've realized that you were special. I've seen the wizarding newspapers, they applaud you as the "Brightest Witch of your age". You must have deducted that there was a reason for that. I entreat you to come to Anjou Manor in Caille and learn about your lineage. It's a mighty one, one that once yielded great witches and wizards. One, through you, might produce more, one day.  
_

_I have enclosed a map of the Manor in this envelope, I hope you'll claim your ancestral home._

_Your future awaits._

_-Shirley Anjou_

* * *

After her classes were done, she left Italy to fly to Australia, set on restoring her parents memories-she desperately wanted to have a long conversation with her mother and ask her some very direct questions. But when she got there, she found she couldn't bring herself to. Her mother, who had always loved to paint, but chose Dental Hygiene was now an artist. She even had her own gallery-an old dream she had now realized, as she had always talked to Hermione about wanting to open a gallery one day. Hermione's father Richard was still a dentist with his own practice, and he was even one of the top practitioners in Sydney. They were both so obviously thriving that Hermione didn't want to disturb that. It was a very hard decision, but she chose to leave them be for now. So instead, she returned to England to settle her affairs-which included fetching Crookshanks from Ginny, and made the journey to Caille, France.

When she got to the very wet city, it smelled perpetually of petrichor, and she fell in love with it instantly. With its towers and cathedrals, it made her think of old English towns of yore. Here was a city that had changed very little, charming in spirit but rich in culture. Anjou Manor was hidden behind a grove of pine trees and climbing Columbine. It was large and imposing, yet posh and lovely with its pale blue marble turrets and quartz display of wealth. It was a castle, in short, and it made her realize that her mothers family weren't just well off, they were wealthy.

The Anjou's had the kind of wealth flaunted by old-world kings and their nobles from centuries ago. The castle faced an equally opulent lake, edged with mint and clover; it was as still as glass, even as mist rose from its surface.

She moved in without a second thought, immediately setting about the task of making the Manor hers. She installed several bookcases and moved the contents of her belongings-which had previously lived in a muggle storage locker—to the manor. She quickly discovered, though, that Tinzy had taken it upon herself to assist her. Tinzy already had her quarters decorated for her; it was daintier than she would've preferred initially. The walls were painted a pale french blue and lace had been papered across the middle. Her bedroom was a bright, airy, room with a large feather mattress and heavy silk sheets. Pale blue candles stood on quartz-made tables, and white fur rugs were placed strategically across the floor. Even the loo was outrageously feminine with its pale blue stone tub and its copper fixtures. She quickly grew to love it all, settling in nicely.

She did write Harry and Ron about this, but she knew better than to expect an immediate answer from both of them, if any at all. She had severed ties with Ron after the war. She knew he wanted to settle down and have children, but she wasn't ready. Harry, on the other hand, left England immediately after the war, putting his relationship with Ginny on pause. He went to New Zealand on a short holiday and simply never returned. After a few letters, she discerned he needed time away to heal and just be Harry, a normal wizard.

She roamed the halls and the rooms of Anjou Manor, discovering various journals and diaries, as well as portraits of her ebony-haired ancestors. She discovered what her mother had failed to tell her and found truth in Shirley's letter. Her maternal lineage most likely stretched back thousands of years. She belonged to the ancient wizarding family Anjou through her mother, a family that was once prominent in wizarding France.

However, a century ago their magic had gone dormant for some reason, and they lived as Squibs-a taboo in the wizarding world. She guessed that they had hidden away in the hope that one day a magical child might be born to them once more, and it seemed their wish had finally been granted through her.

Caille, France, Fall 1999

Hermione ran her fingers through her hair and looked around the manor. Everything was in pristine condition thanks to Tinzy. Her Dragonhide bags were packed and waiting by her feet, but just as she was about to Disapparate she caught sight of a merino scarf she borrowed.

Rising, she snagged it to stuff it into her purse, and cast her eyes around to see if he left any other things behind. Tinzy would have her head if she found any of his belongings around-the house-elf didn't like him too much, even though she had never met him.

She made several trips back to England and ran into several old mates as well as acquaintances. He was between the two, always had been. She rediscovered that he was just as studious as her, but extremely physical. She also discovered he had been harboring a fancy for her since third year at Hogwarts. They began dating casually, but he used his Slytherin wiles on her to break through her carefully constructed dating objectives. One, she never slept with a man on a first outing. Two, she never let said man into her life before meeting her parents. She broke both of those rules with him. She even agreed to go back to Hogwarts on his suggestion for her eighth year-not that it hadn't been on her mind already. She had written to Headmistress McGonagall to ask and had gotten an instant response.

Mcgonagall agreed, informing Hermione that she would be taking on the post of Head Girl. But due to Hermione's eighth-year status, she could come and go as she chose and, in addition, invite visitors overnight-Hermione knew she meant special guests. Mcgonagall also mentioned they had selected another fellow eighth-year for Head Boy. Their decision for picking him, however, was based on his aptitude, as opposed to any other circumstances. Hermione remembered the letter well:

…. _we chose this particular wizard for his affinity for brewing potions. Since the war, he has made several contributions to the wizarding world-notwithstanding monetary gifts. He's very bright and has even agreed to aid Professor Slughorn this year….I hope you will be amenable to his quest for redemption...We all have scars, Miss Granger, but they shouldn't define us…_

Pleased with her search, she called "Bye, Tinzy!", before she hefted her suitcases up and Apparated to Hogwarts with a quiet  _*pop*._

Hogwarts Castle Gates, Fall Term 1999

Hermione arrived at the gates of Hogwarts, astonished to see the turrets and bridges reconstructed that had been demolished in the War ending only a year ago. Hogwarts shone again like a newly minted sickle. A light autumn breeze swept her long curls in the air from under the blue beret she wore. Her cashmere robes kept the chill away, as did the buttery leather gloves she wore-she picked them up in Prague that past summer. She stood tall and straight when three other eighth-year students ambled up behind her.

Her wand slid into her hand on pure reflex, as did the non-verbal, purple-tinted shield. She relaxed visibly when she recognized the three Slytherin men.

"Easy there love, we don't bite, do we chaps?" Blaise laughed. He'd filled out during the past summer and still wore a winning smile. He had spent the majority of the last wizarding war in Italy where his family-all half-bloods, were neutral.

His two mates, Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott, however, remained silent. Theo was smiling down at his hands while Draco just stood there politely.

"Well, hello to you all. I guess I'll be seeing you all soon then," she said, winking. Theo flashed her an appreciative smile before she passed like smoke through the gates.

"Was that Granger or one of those Witch Secret models you're obsessed with Theo?" Blaise joked, throwing his arms over Draco's shoulders. Theo rubbed his hands together against the chill in the air. His pale green eyes twinkled as they followed the witch's progress into the castle.

"Where's that scarf you've always got on?" Blaise frowned.

Theo smiled unapologetically. "Forgot it."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Thankyou so much to Chanda Williams for reviewing this fic*


	2. Theodore Nott

 

Head Dormitory, Fall Term 1999

 

Hermione held a notebook open that had Head Girl inscribed in calligraphy on the front as the first of four prefect meetings of the year was underway. She was currently writing beneath the name Thomas Bones, Hufflepuff. As she wrote, her notes appeared in the accompanying prefects own notebook.

It was a clever bit of spellwork on her part, involving the fusion of the Gemino and Protean Charm. Meanwhile, Draco sat to her left, his own notebook in hand that had his title inscribed on front; he was busy writing down instructions to all Ravenclaw and Slytherin Prefects.

 

When Hermione was done with issuing her instructions, she closed the notebook and looked up at the Prefects. “Your patrols are yours to own,” she said with a smooth tone. “If something comes up, such as a appointment with your Head of House, or perhaps you’ve taken ill, it is up to you to get your patrol covered. Only in a case of absolute emergency may you come to myself or Draco, is that clear?”

 

Hermione turned to watch Ginny narrow her eyes at her purse, a navy blue Dragonhide designer piece she picked up in Italy. Peeping out of it was a green and silver scarf, an item, Hermione knew the redhead would conclude belonged to Theo. But, Ginny didn’t know it was Theo necessarily, all she knew at this moment was that Hermione was casually seeing someone.

 

“Please be aware that you have other duties also,” Draco told the prefects from his seat, meeting Hermione’s eye briefly before continuing. “ We have several inter-house parties which I expect every Prefect to attend. You’re all in charge of delegating who should organize what. Again, should there be any discrepancies, try to sort it out yourselves before approaching us.”

 

“Will we be having a ball for Yule this year?” Astoria asked demurely, blushing when Draco turned to look at her.

 

“If you want to organize it, Greengrass, by all means,” Hermione replied, rolling her eyes at the witch. “If you decide to go ahead with it, I’d like you to write a proposal for me to review before submission to the Headmistress. Are there any other questions?” she asked, looking around.

 

“Yeah I have one, Granger, when did you get so bloody sexy?” asked Jerry Wilkes leering at her.

 

Not gracing him with a response, Hermione lifted one dark eyebrow before she noticed Draco go rigid.  She watched him set down his notebook to lean forward in his seat with a lethal glare.

 

“Sorry, Wilkes is it? I don’t believe that’s how you talk to a witch. Did you want to apologize or shall I give you a lesson in etiquette?”

 

Hermione was surprised by Draco, who, up to this point, hadn't looked at her directly for more than a second, or even spoken a word to her. Yet here he was, defending her honour, in an offensive manner with his eyes trained on the poor sod who was shrinking back in his seat.

 

“Sorry I--,” Wilkes began.

 

“Spare me,” she interrupted with her hand lifted up,”but thank you for the compliment nonetheless. If that’s all for today, you’re all excused until the next quarter,” she said, dismissing them all.

 

The Prefects all moved to the portrait to troop out of the head dorms, all except for Ginny.

 

“Was there anything else Gin?” Hermione asked, looking at her questioningly while picking up her notes. She waved her wand to make all the chairs vanish then plopped down on the couch.

 

Ginny walked over to Hermione to sit beside her. She looked over at Draco, who was turning to disappear up the staircase. “I was going to ask you who you have waiting in your room,” Ginny replied sweetly, nodding towards the purse with the scarf still hanging out.

 

Shrugging, Hermione just replied, “ No one of consequence, a lark really.”

 

Ginny laughed. “A lark you say? Who are you and what have you done to the girl who never looked twice at boys?”

 

“She learned about the pleasures they can bring,” Hermione replied with a laugh. “It’s nobody, Gin. You know I’d tell you if it was serious.”

 

Ginny just looked at her friend with a raised eyebrow., “Surely you must feel something for whoever it is. How long have you been seeing him? Has he seen that Manor of yours with you?”

 

Hermione had written Ginny earlier that summer about Anjou Manor. The girl had only laughed and commented that of course Hermione would turn out to be a pureblood princess. She said it all good naturedly of course but Hermione read the nuances in Ginny’s tone. There was lingering bitterness there, in part because Harry had recently broken up with her, by post. So Hermione didn’t bring it up again, nor tell Ginny anything else about what she discovered about her family. Nor that she chose not to restore her parents memories, or about who she casually slept with. She wanted to give her friend time to heal.

 

She also didn’t outright tell Ginny about Theo because she wanted to shield her friend. When she severed ties with Ronald earlier that year she was in a similar state. Her friend Sarah Crawley started seeing someone and told her, and she remembered feeling sour about it. For that reason she didn’t tell Ginny, but she would--should her relationship with Theo grow.

 

“He hasn't, no. I've only visited him a couple of times, and was only over for short periods. Really Gin, it’s nothing,” Hermione entreated.

 

Sighing Ginny saluted Hermione and got up to walk out of the portrait, but then turned around once more. “But what about Malfoy?”

 

“What about him?” Hermione asked, frowning.

 

“Surely you’ve noticed the way he looks at you, you’re finally attainable to him,” Ginny replied, smiling rather smugly.

 

Hermione just heaved a breath and squinted at her. “I’ve no idea what you’re going on about Gin. Now, if you don’t mind, I have to ‘retire’ for the evening.”

 

“Yes, have an O for me won’t you? Ta darling,” Ginny sang stepping out of the portrait.

 

Head Girl Quatres, Fall 1999

 

Theo lounged on her bed, watching her meticulously organize her side of the closet after a new order of her Italian designer frocks had arrived with the mail this morning. She hung each sinful addition next to a cashmere or silken set of robes. Underneath each set stood outrageously high stiletto’s, some patent, others laser-cut and others still sinuously stitched with crystal.

 

“I thought you’d turned over a new leaf then,” he drawled. Lazily, he fell back onto her bed to study the crystal chandelier.

 

She turned toward him with a laugh. “Just because I’ve stopped dressing like a church mouse doesn’t mean I’ve lost the plot. Plus, this helps me getting ready for classes quicker. Because you know, the less time I spend getting ready, the more we can spend in bed.”

 

“Sounds logical.” Theo laughed and sat up to reach for her. Hermione instantly went to him, shrugging off her robes in the process. His eyes darkened at the sight of her breasts, which were outlined through her transparent grey dress. He loved those dresses of hers, they never failed to delight him.

 

Looking up with a smirk he asked, “How about we go to Lake Como next weekend? I have full ownership of it now.” His father, Theodore Nott Senior, recently signed away the rights of the villa to his heir. He had no use for it, as he currently was on house arrest in the Nott ancestral home.

 

She bit her lip for a second and shook her head. “No. Sorry, babe. I have a few things to do back at the Manor. Tinzy has been on a tear, going on and on about a wedding of all things. I think the poor thing is going senile, I’m not sure how long she’s served my great-grandmother. I need to go back to harvest some vegetables too, I told you about that last week.”

 

Theo rolled his eyes, yes he remembered that conversation well. Since moving to Caille, she had basically evolved into a bigger swot. She did yoga almost religiously every weekend morning--which was why she only Apparated to Nott Manor after lunch. She only ate ‘vegan’--a muggle term, which entailed eating ‘whole foods’, equating to vegetables and grain that she grew herself. She also primarily only cooked with vegetables that she could trace back to a farm, and kept her garden in tip-top shape. He blamed that infernal house-elf of hers, Tilzy, or Tonsil or whatsit. He was flabbergasted at first that she even had a house elf. He wasn't aware that Muggleborns could have one, but then again she was a war hero, he wouldn’t be surprised if the Ministry of Magic gave her twenty house elves. But he didn't ask questions, nor had he ever gone to her Manor; she always came to him in Wiltshire—wearing one of those too-short frocks of hers that made his mouth water. On the bright side, she was also extremely bendy and let him do all sorts of things to her.

 

“Well, how about we go to Portugal again for Yule? Last month when we went it was relaxing, no?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows at her. He had taken her to his family estate in Madeira last summer, and they had spent the entire time driving each other wild with lust. He lived out his every fantasy concerning her while there--his fantasies about her were pretty sordid. She even let him eat ice-cream from her breasts one evening. Granted she also consumed exorbinate amounts of wine. But, he would treasure that experience to his dying breath.She was sin incarnate from her smooth kissable shoulders to the delicate arches in her feet.

 

She rolled her eyes and grinned at him to reply, “It’s a definite possibility.” She then turned to walk over to her walk-in closet to nimbly unbutton her frock.

“How about you persuade me?” she asked after a couple of minutes, turning to him from over her shoulders.

 

“I’m happy to oblige,” he said with a smirk, only to watch her let the thin silk frock pool around her feet with a suggestive smile. He knew he struck gold with her; she had a mind as sharp as a blade and a toned body that most witches would kill for. He hadn't known how lucky he would be now when he met her in the pub that evening in Bristol a few weeks ago.

 

_Ogdens Pub, Bristol Summer 1999_

 

_He smelled her before he saw her. Waves of sweet orange and Palma rose drifted in his direction. He simply turned to see her enter the pub. She was the only girl he knew that smelled like summer, that exact blend of fresh and floral._

 

_She was gorgeous in a short thigh-grazing midnight navy dress and pale pink sling-back stilettos. Her hair was pulled up high in a top knot and her pretty face was flushed from the heat of high summer. She looked different, sophisticated, mature in comparison to the dirty, malnourished girl she was last year. She even held herself differently, her back straight and head held high as she sashayed in._

 

_She scanned the pub with those whiskey-coloured eyes of hers before they landed on a gaggle of girls. She walked over to a bevvy of blondes, redheads and brunettes and they flocked to her as if she was their queen bee--no doubt she was, but he always considered her to be a bit a lone wolf. Ginny Weasley was there too, wearing something short and clingy that drew Blaise's eye. Beside her was Anna Avery, a french pureblood girl he met quite a few years ago at one of his grandmother's functions. She was beautiful too but her family was snubbed for being on the side of the Order of the Phoenix during the last wizarding war. She was also dating Roger Davis, who now played for Puddlemere United if he wasn't mistaken._

_Hermione sat down, crossing her long golden legs and leaning in to join in whatever conversation girls typically had. But ever so often, he knew she caught him staring at her--he knew this because a rose tinge would appear in her cheeks while her eyes would sparkle._

_At one point, he swore she even glanced at him, but he convinced himself he had entirely too much ale, and then let the matter slide. He had fancied her since the third year when they were paired together to make a potion. She was beautiful then too, with her hair braided to the side and her face flushed from the fumes. They were making the Draught of Living Death. She was giving him instructions, and he was jumping at her every command. They got an E on the potions and he remembered she was furious that Draco got an O. The bastard had always been a dab hand when it came to brewing, and always seemed to have a slew of witches following him too. He never seemed to bother with them either, he was always too busy brooding or dodging Pansy._

 

_Towards midnight Blaise had made his way over to Ginny Weasley--who looked utterly pissed but still managed to wag a finger in Blaise's face before Disapparating. Theo rolled his eyes and made to follow her leave but_ _stopped when he noticed Hermione was still sitting with one of her friends, a blonde girl. She turned to him then and rose up to walk over to him, where she sat on the stool next to his._

 

_“How about you buy me a giggle water and tell me why you've been staring at me all evening, Theodore?” she asked smiling._

 

_“Tell you what,” he purred back, wits in check—thank Merlin! “I’ll tell you why if you do something equally as brazen.”_

 

_He bought her that drink, which led to a round of firewhiskey before Hermione walked with him through the pub doors, his hand on her very pert bum._

 

Walking over to the bed Hermione straddled him and smiled cheekily down at him to ask, “How are you going to persuade me then?”

 

Unhooking the front of her lacy bra, he threw it to the floor and looked up at her to mouth against her breast, “Like this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Thankyou so much to Naarna & Chanda Williams for reviewing this fic*


	3. Pureblood Princess

The Great Hall, Fall Term 1999

 

Hermione sat between Ginny and Anna Avery as she ate her toast. She chose rye and was currently spreading a bit of avocado on it when she caught Ginny's eye.

 

“I already told you everything there is to know, so stop with the face” she laughed.

 

Ginny rolled her eyes. Hermione did give her a general recount but she didn't mention a few crucial things such as if she had a good time, or if she really liked the guy. Ginny had a sneaking suspicion Hermione was withholding that intel because she didn't exactly know herself.

 

"You fully evaded 'Mione. I know you, you're not telling me everything because you evidently don't know yourself. Do you even like the guy?"

 

Anna laughed and leaned in, “I'm more interested in how he's held your interest. We both know you let Ron go because he only ever nattered on about babies. Tell us about what you do when you're together--you know, besides shagging?”

 

Hermione set her toast down and swivelled her eyes to the Slytherin table where Theo sat in his Quidditch gear.

 

_Madeira, Portugal 1999_

 

_She was stretched out on a plush lawn chair on the lake front. The sun was beating down ferociously so much that steam was rising from the lake. Mountains surrounded them and the white sand of the shore glittered. A warm breeze lassoed inwards bringing with it more sweltering heat._

 

_She wore nothing but a tiny navy thong bikini bottom and Theo was rubbing sun tanning oil on her back and legs. She was more relaxed than she had been in ages, and she had a handsome man with his hands on her._

 

_“Shall we continue this upstairs?” He murmured bending down to kiss her shoulders while his hand slid down her back._

 

_She turned to peek out at him and sighed at how gorgeous he was. Merlin, she was lucky. However, at the same time, she felt their relationship was one-sided. She had been seeing him for little over 6 weeks now, and they developed a healthy sex life. Physically, their relationship was positively electric, but her feelings for him were still null and void. She had tried to feel what she thought of as deep affection for him, but that was equivalent to how she felt about Harry, and she didn't exactly let him fondle her at night. She knew she should break it off with him but at the same time, why? She was a 19-year-old witch, who had a handsome wizard literally worshiping the ground she walked on. When she first started seeing him, she was attracted to his immense physicality.  
_

 

_However, she didn’t feel nor experience intimacy with him, and being intimate meant feeling something deep and meaningful. When she was with Theo, it was little more than acrobatic shagging--a lot of it--and he was especially attentive to her, but in an animistic way, not sensual. She didn't feel raw and electric with him nor experience that flash and burn she always thought she would. Part of the reason she broke up with Ron earlier that year was for the very same reason. Yes, she felt physically attracted to Theo; how could she not be with his tanned skin, black hair and pale green eyes? He also had a very athletic, toned body which she assumed he got from playing Quidditch. She’d been on the run all of last year, and it had taken its toll on her. Right now she wanted to be a normal witch, and if that meant meaningless sex with a willing man, then so be it. But maybe her feelings for him would change. Maybe it took time._

 

_“How about out here?” she asked turning over to watch his pale eyes widen._

 

_He reached a hand out to splay it over her sternum and whispered, “You really are the brightest witch of our age.”_

 

“Hermione?” Ginny asked, peering at her friend.

 

“Sorry! He, err, takes me to gelato parlors; you know, those funny cafes in Verona? We’ve been to his summer estate in Portugal once. That was lovely—I went shopping there too and found the most amazing knickers.” Hermione smiled, picking up her slice of toast to slather on another spoonful of avocado.

 

Ginny and Anna shared a glance, then Anna spoke up, “So, you don’t fancy him?”

 

Hermione looked up in response, blushing deeply, only to have her attention redirected at the owls suddenly beginning to flood the Great Hall, carrying letters, parcels and the Daily Prophet to those who subscribed. Hermione grabbed her own, then groaned in exasperation to see her face on the front page.

 

**“Anjou House Heiress”**

 

“Hermione you’re avoiding the question.” Ginny grumbled.

 

Hermione ignored her, distracted by today's issue of the Daily Prophet. A dozen thoughts whipped through her head. _How did the prophet find out? Who took this photo? What would Harry say when he found out? Where did the prophet get their information from?_ But, she read on:

_...The Anjou family once rivalled the Blacks and Rosiers in power and sway in Wizarding France. Towards the end of the eighteenth century, they began to produce Squibs ...In hopes of a magical child every new generation married into other Squib families….Hermione Granger is the first witch born to the Anjou line in over 100 years..._

 

“Hermione?” Anna asked looking up from her own copy, “ You’re a what—a pureblood? Is this legitimate?”

 

“No, I’m me! I just—I recently found out. Where was this photo taken?” Hermione asked, frowning. The photo of her on the front page also irked her. It depicted her standing near the wharf in France.

 

She didn’t realize she was being photographed, and it wasn’t the image she wanted to project to the public. She wore a pale green sheer frock and her curls were pulled back into a high ponytail. She carried various shopping sacks on her arm, very closely followed by Theo—although his face wasn’t shown. In short, she looked like a privileged pureblood nancy girl.

 

Terry Bott came up behind her, followed closely by his girlfriend Astoria Greengrass, who had a calculating look on her face.

 

“I always knew there was a reason why you were so powerful, so deadly,” he mused, his eyes trailing from the top of her curly head down to her stilettos. “Your family once produced really powerful seers; did you know?,” he asked, lightly, sarcastically. He turned to Astoria who frowned as though she was connecting proverbial dots.

 

He then looked to Anna and Ginny, who looked impressed, before continuing, “That kind of magic doesn’t die, it goes dormant. It’ll reawaken in your descendants. I’d say that you're now the most highly sought pureblood girl in Britain,” Terry said, angling his face to look at her cryptically.

 

Hermione glared at the Ravenclaw before retorting with malice, “Yes, but this changes nothing. I'm not a seer, I just score well on exams. Just because I'm an Anjou doesn't make me a glorified debutante.”

 

She then stood up angrily to Incendio the Prophet before storming away. She heard Ginny call out to her, but she continued walking, her stilettos clicking as she disappeared.

 

When she was gone, the entire Great Hall broke out in uproar. All but Draco Malfoy, who sat gracefully at the Slytherin table. His attention hadn’t been on the paper. No, it had been focused on Hermione the whole time. He carefully watched her face when the news broke and took note of the aloofness—signalling her foreknowledge of her lineage. He then noticed the colour rising there when her friends reacted; she evidently hadn’t told anyone yet or if she had, not in detail. His eyebrows rose when his ex-fiancée and her mediocre replacement confronted Hermione, but he sat back when she flared up at them.

 

Turning back to his breakfast, he was momentarily distracted when he noticed Theo, who sat surrounded by a slew of second-year Slytherin girls. The tosser seemed shell-shocked, but also looked like he was just awarded a thousand galleons or a bloody Order of Merlin. Yes, Theo was his mate, but, in the passing years, he had turned into a Gryffindor in emerald garb. All the sod seemed to care or talk about was Quidditch and shagging half-bloods and Muggle-borns—Hermione being one of them—and he was grateful the sod always stopped talking when he showed face.

 

For all his flirting and swagger, Draco was always respectful and dauntless when it came to preserving a witch's dignity, regardless of her blood status, and his friends knew that. Despite Pansy’s advances, he never pursued her or any other witch, at least not seriously. Even less so now that he had learned of a prophecy—one that spoke of his future with the Anjou Heiress.He had been called back to England immediately when the prophecy had been had come to light and told Blaise and Rolf Scamander of it. They had advised him to let her discover the prophecy herself as she wasn’t one that would take direction lightly. He knew Hermione to be a strong-willed witch, one that  wouldn’t take the prophecy lying down—especially as she was currently involved with one of his mates. However, he had one of the Anjou journals should he need to speed things along. The journal was a small black leather volume that Eliza Anjou and Luisa Malfoy shared--they were notoriously close, or so it was said.

 

Crossing his arms, he weighed his options and thought it was in his best interests to not to approach her with the tome. Not yet.

 

From across the hall, he noticed Ginny watching him from her seat and turned to Anna, her friend he presumed, with a speculative look.

The Dungeons/Potions, Fall Term

 

Hermione was still seething. It had been a solid week since the Prophet revealed her maternal lineage. She was feeling vengeful and slightly put out that they found out; she had wanted it to remain private and be selective about who she chose to tell—now the entire wizarding world knew. On top of that, Theo had been acting strangely, and not the Quidditch kind of strange when he refused to eat red meat before a game .The first evening after the story came out, he refused to stay with her in the Head Dorms. He came up with a very obvious excuse, or at least that was how she read it—citing that he was feeling under the weather. The next morning, he sent her roses with an excessively romantic bit of poetry attached to it. She didn’t know what to make of it and put it aside, thinking he was feeling badly for her because of all the attention. Or, perhaps, he had something going on that he didn’t want to share with her. It wasn’t until midway through that week that she started to catch on to the real reason.

 

_Head Girl Quarters, Fall Term 1999_

 

 _She sat in front of the fireplace fresh from her bath, and she was massaging a citrus cream all over her legs. The warmth from the fireplace brought a rosy glow to her cheeks and dried her damp curls. The only sounds permeating her room was of her_ _Ujjayi_ _breathing and the fireplace crackling. It was hypnotic and soothing, but it did nothing to stop the buzzing in her head which she had hoped to still with a bath, but no such luck._

 

_She had quite a few things on her mind, including the amount of reading she had to do for Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. She had an essay due on Animagi for Transfiguration and she had to talk to the Headmistress about Astoria’s proposal for a Yule ball. That particular task would be tedious at best, and she so desperately wanted to pawn it off on Draco. But the Head Boy was as elusive as he was peculiar. Not that he wasn’t taking his duties seriously or being problematic in any way. He was just acting strange, and not because of the article about her family. No, his strangeness stretched back further than that. Since the beginning of term, he was nothing but friendly and polite towards her. He showed up to all his classes, was present during the first prefect’s meeting, and even stood up for her to Jerry Wilkes. It was a glaring contrast to his prior behavior towards her during the past few years: slurring obscenities and mocking her efforts in class. Now he rarely even made eye contact with her, always looked down instead when she passed him. On the rare occasion that they were in close proximity to each other, he was almost scrupulously polite. It was a tad infuriating to be quite honest, and she would have preferred him to just revert back to calling her a Mudblood and be done with it. Theo was just as infuriating, if not more so, because he was her problem, whereas Draco didn't have to answer to her._

 

_Just then, her door opened, and she looked over, only to see the subject of her contempt immediately clap a hand over his eyes and turn away._

 

_“Sorry, love! I didn’t realize you weren’t dressed. I thought I would come see if you’d like to take a walk to the Black Lake with me,” he asked, still looking away._

 

_Confusion rang through her head as it had for the past few days. Theo was acting like a bloody shy virgin. Just last week he had her writhing beneath him, his fingers buried deep inside her and his tongue laving her breast. Now he was treating her like all that hadn’t happened, almost as if she were—_

 

_“Theodore, is this about the Prophet?” she asked slowly, squinting at him._

 

_He stiffened, then bowed his head. “ That's what I wanted to talk to you about, Hermione. If you could get dressed? I wanted to-”_

 

_“No , I, err, have an assignment I need to finish. Can this wait?” she asked politely, trying to press back the cold fury that threatened to overwhelm her. She knew he was bloody treating her differently because she was now one of those pureblood princesses—if not technically. What, was she trash before that he slept with her every night? Did he think that because she was a ‘Muggle-born’ he could date her casually without an archaic marriage contract? Sweet Morgana, her face must be bright red if it at all reflected her current fury._

 

_Nodding, he backed out with his hand still placed over his eyes and shut the door behind him._

 

_She clapped a hand to her forehead and looked around, taking in the lilac candles and golden upholstery that usually brought her calm and whispered, “ Merlin.”_

 

“You know, most witches would be happy if they found out they were wizarding royalty,” Tracy Davis said in her usual lilting voice, Hermione's partner in Potions today; they were instructed to create Fatum, a variation of Amortentia.

 

It had been a couple of days since the Daily Prophet ordeal, and she still suffered from a resounding headache. It didn't help that girls like Davis now deigned to talk to her.

 

Hermione glanced over at the girl, who sat next to her with her long black hair and sun-kissed skin.

 

“Oh, well I’m not most witches then, am I?” Hermione replied sweetly.

 

Leaning in her seat so she rested her chin in her cupped hands, the girl stared back at Hermione before replying. “No, you’re not. You’re the heiress of the great House of Anjou, prized for their affinity to produce seers and alchemists. Pureblood lineage dating back thousands of years. Your house magic has been dormant for a century only to reawaken in you. You, a Mudblood. But that phrase doesn’t apply anymore, does it? Your parents, both of them hail from long lines of Squibs. How does it feel, _‘Anjou’_ , to be just as inbred as me and my ilk?” Tracy asked, her eyes glittering.

 

Blinking, she smiled in confusion before replying , “Blood-status or not, I know who I am. I’m a Gryffindor, and I don’t hold with prejudiced old-world ways of thinking. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to finish brewing this potion.”

 

Just then Professor Slughorn ambled by and stopped to inspect the sparkling fumes of Hermione’s potion and it’s silver froth. “Well done, Miss Granger. 20 points to Gryffindor. Would you mind sharing with us what your potion smells like?” he said with a booming voice.

 

The entire dungeon quieted, and Hermione turned to sniff at her potion. She couldn’t smell a thing. Blinking, she smiled before replying, “I don’t smell anything. I must have forgotten an ingredient.”

 

Professor Slughorn blinked at her like a confused owl before booming out, “Nonsense! This potion is perfect, you must be feeling under the weather, Miss Granger. Mr Malfoy, will you test Miss Granger's potion for us?”

 

Draco got up obligingly to walk over from his seat; not meeting her eye, he dipped his head to breathe in the fumes from her cauldron.

 

“Well then, boy, what do you smell?” Professor Slughorn asked excitedly.

 

“Oranges,” Draco replied, then lifted his eyes to meet hers slowly, hesitantly, “and roses.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Thankyou so much to Naarna & Chanda Williams for reviewing this fic*


	4. Blood Magic

Anjou Manor, Fall Term 1999

 

“Mistress needs rest! Tinzy sees the shadow under your eyes! Has mistress been eating hers vegetables?” Tinzy asked, rummaging around Hermione’s room for something.

 

Hermione sighed and nodded. “Yes, Tinzy, I have. You don’t have to worry so much. I’m quite capable of getting all my nutrients.”

 

Tinzy turned her beady eyes on her mistress and shook her head before finding what she was looking for. _She wanted to make sure mistress was eating properly. Mistress needed to be strong and healthy to carry all her future babies. Tinzy knew of the prophecy, yes she did, and she would make sure her mistress would satisfy her obligation to it. Blood magic scared Tinzy, but Tinzy knows it’s the highest form of magic and cannot be revoked. Her former mistress Shirley, Merlin bless her, warned Tinzy not to tell her great-granddaughter of the prophecy. She did, however, tell Tinzy to make sure Mistress Hermione would be ready for it._

 

“Tinzy is only trying to help Mistress. While yous was at the great school for wizards, Hogwarts, Tinzy made this oil for you. It’s a body oil and it helps the body prepare for important things. Wills Mistress Hermione use it, for Tinzy?”

 

Tinzy handed Hermione a tiny green bottle of essential oils that smelled faintly of rosehips ad geranium.

 

“I would love to use it, thank you Tinzy,” She smiled, turning to slip the bottle into her satchel. She then fell back onto her bed and stared up at the copper and sapphire chintz chandelier on her ceiling.

 

She had been feeling so edgy lately, so she had asked the Headmistress for permission to floo back to Anjou Manor this weekend for some alone time. Of course she knew she wouldn’t be completely alone, as Tinzy and the staff were always around. Tinzy handled the staff, who were all mostly Squibs. She never really saw them either, they tended to work odd hours and behaved as house-elves would. While that initially irked her, Tinzy explained they were paid extremely well and preferred to work in solitude. But Anjou Manor was beautifully kept, all pale blue, coppers, and sapphire detailing. The floors perpetually gleamed, and the blue bells and hydrangeas were always fresh in their diamond vases.

 

She had deliberately left Hogwarts without telling Theo, but she had told Malfoy that she would be away for the weekend. She had seen him briefly at dawn before she used the Floo to leave for the Manor; he had a serene, almost angelic aura about him as he was sitting next to the fireplace

 

_Head Dormitories, Fall 1999_

 

_She stepped out of her room and closed the door silently. It was just after 5 a.m., and the sun hadn’t even begun to paint the sky yet. In the distance, she could hear mourning doves, dulcetly cooing to each other. Traipsing down the steps to the common room, she saw the fireplace first before she noticed him._

 

_Draco Malfoy sat on a large black leather couch, one that dominated the length of the common room and backed the staircase. Thick, pale green rugs were spread over the glossy cherry wood floors, and long billowy coral curtains did nothing to hide the moonlight which spilled into the room from high windows.  He wore a dark green polo shirt and loose light grey pyjama bottoms, his hair was mussed, and his grey were focused on the text and rolls of parchment in front of him._

 

_He looked up when he noticed her, wand-slim in a dark denim shirtdress and white stilettos. He could never understand how girls could walk in those things, but he did know they suffered in them because they made their legs look sinful.  Hermione, however, would look effortlessly sexual in anything, be it ballerina flats or leather boots. He knew she didn’t wear the shoes for his appreciation nor her boyfriends. No, Hermione wore those frocks and heels and held herself the way she did for herself. He respected that, and he knew his mother would recognize a kinship with her there. Confidence in women was a rare thing; most witches he knew preened when a man gave them attention. Hermione, he knew, would only smile gratefully and return the compliment demurely. She may have been raised by Squibs pretending to be Muggles, but he would bet she was sent to private school as a child and took lessons on etiquette. From her fine cheekbones to her elegant posture she was the very image of a pureblood princess—without dispute._

 

_“Draco,” she greeted, coming down the steps slowly. She clutched a navy leather duffel bag inscribed with her initials in silver._

 

_He inclined his head at her and politely responded, “ Hermione.”_

 

_She came forward and dropped her satchel on the couch before turning back to him. “If anyone asks, I’ve gone home for the weekend. I have some things I have to take care of.”_

 

_He looked at her intently to clarify, “If by anyone you mean Theo Nott, am I right?”_

 

_Her eyes flew over his face, searching, he knew, for any malice or ill intent. When she found none she looked down at her hands._

 

_If she were to search his face more, she would notice the inner struggle there. The yearning to be true to a friend he’d known since childhood, but the knowledge of how his fate was tied to hers. The sadness and the loss of having to forsake that friendship and solder a relationship. He knew Theo loved her, despite all his talk of shagging and being ‘a man on the prowl,’ Theo was head over arse for her. He also knew, just from observing her, that she didn’t reciprocate those feelings._

 

_“How did you know?” she asked softly, her eyes once again on his._

 

_He shrugged. “He’s my mate. I also live in the same dorm as you.”_

 

_She blushed at that and turned away again. He knew she was diligent with her Muffliato charms, but he also knew Nott didn’t visit her room simply to sleep there._

 

_She turned back to him, all composed. “Yes, um, please let him know. Or anyone else who asks. I’ve told Headmistress McGonagall as well, so I suppose I’ll see you on Monday?”_

 

_He turned back to his studies and replied, “ Have a good weekend, Hermione.”_

It was still early so she left Tinzy in her bedroom to organize her things. She long admitted defeat on that front. Tinzy was a bloody force of nature when it came to getting her way.

 

She wandered through the long resplendent hallways, with its gilded mirrors and pale blue stone tables, and wondered if her mother had ever been here. She pictured a small black-haired girl trailing her fingers along the tops of the flower petals or leaning in to test the heat of a flame from a candle. She knew her mother had to have been here, because her maternal grandparents were killed in a plane crash decades ago. Their daughter, Helen Anjou, must have come here to grow up in Caille. She just wondered why her mother never spoke of this place, never told her own daughter of her history. But then Hermione realized, her father, Richard Granger, was a stodge Catholic man. He was a Squib, too, she knew, but he had forsaken his heritage and paved a path for himself. Her father was quite a conservative fellow, being a wealthy orthodontist with a taste for the flashy things in life. He had sent her to only the finest private schools, and even hired a woman to teach her to play piano when she was four. But he was a Muggle, through and through, with his soccer group and evening running club in Oxford. He must’ve convinced his wife not to tell Hermione, but Hermione knew her mother had at least written her grandmother, Shirley Anjou. Indeed, Shirley’s letter mentioned that Helen had sent her pictures of Hermione growing up.

 

Hermione desperately wanted more answers, and—almost as if the Manor acquiesced to her wishes—a golden set of door appeared around a bend.

 

Hermione walked in to find a large library, all pale blue walls and towering white stone bookcases. Rose coloured chairs sat next to crystal tables holding fresh pink peonies and lilacs. Pale blue candles burned lowly in large conch shells, and tiny sapphire chandeliers hung from a high crystal ceiling. It was elysium incarnate, and Hermione resolved right then and there that this was her new favourite room in Anjou Manor.

 

Her eyes flew over every surface, every wall, taking in the white fur throws and glass cased book shelves. They settled, however, on a pale blue painted wall where a large golden tree was etched. On the golden tree were names and dates, dating back centuries. Moving close she mouthed William Alfred Anjou, 502 A.D. This was her family tree. Her family tree dated back to the sixth century. Going into study mode, she stood there for what seemed like hours taking in every name, every birth and death, every line that formed a new branch on that tree. When she crouched to the bottom she noted her name, Hermione Anjou Granger. Beside her name, there was a adjoining thread, similar to the threads that joined members of her house to their spouses. Except her intended's name was blurred, as though it were a photograph taken through shaky lens. She also noted that her name and the name of her intended were threaded in a shining blue that seemed to glow. Sitting back on her heels she wondered what that meant and whether it signified anything.

 

She then flicked her eyes back up and noticed a pattern there. The last male born to the Anjou Line, was Frederick Lyon Anjou in 1650. After him all the preceding generations consisted of daughters. _Strange. It’s almost as if something happened, a curse or something, that blighted the Anjou line. But what’s the significance of Anjou men?_

 

She didn't find those answers until much later, midnight, after delving through countless books. She sat with a heavy book open on her lap, her eyes wide and colour drained from her face. Elemental Magic. That was the answer. Male Anjous wielded Elemental magic. The significance of that winded her. She knew about Elemental Magic, or, at least, knew what _Hogwarts, A History_ had to say about it. It was the most powerful magic that ever existed. It was the power to control the elements, to bend them and use them when casting spells. Effectively, it rendered the user little more than a deity. She knew from prior reading that _Hogwarts, A History_ speculated that Rowena Ravenclaw’s grandfather, Aldric, had elemental magic. It was taught at Hogwarts when the castle was run by the four founders, but lost favour in the preceding centuries. Now it was simply a topic of folklore, a myth in a magical world.

She yawned then and closed her eyes, only to open them once more in the morning to find Tinzy standing there tapping her tiny foot.

 

“Misstress will be late. Mistress has to return to Hogwarts to meet with Master Draco,” Tinzy said in a rush.

 

Hermione squinted at her house elf and asked capriciously, “ What was that Tinzy?  I didn’t catch what you said. What time is it?”

 

Tinzy wrung her tiny hands then repeated, “It’s Sunday morning, Mistress. Yous asked Tinzy to remind you to return to Hogwarts, so you could speaks with a Mr. Draco Malfoy.”

 

Hermione frowned then remembered. Professor McGonagall had owled her and approved the request for a Yule ball. The headmistress agreed but stipulated that she and Draco would be in charge of planning it. So now Hermione had to return early to plan something she had no wish to execute, with a man who baffled her as much as he unnerved her. He was certainly an enigma, always had been with those mercurial moods of his. The war changed him though; he seemed less like a privileged peacock scared of his own shadow. Now he was quiet, composed, well-mannered. He had basically grown up, and she heard he was studying to take the pre-Healership entrance exam to St. Mungo's. She was surprised. She fully expected him to buy his way in as he had done in the past with the Slytherin Quidditch team. But he hadn’t; he was quite the opposite now. Headmistress McGonagall had even mentioned once (in a letter?) that he was helping Professor Slughorn with the grading of papers and potions testing. So, she was baffled. It was like she was dealing with a new person she’s never met before.

 

Hermione nodded as a response to Tinzy, then got up to prepare for her return to Hogwarts within the hour, leaving those glittering halls of her new home, Anjou Manor, behind once more.

 

Head Dorms, Fall 1999

 

A couple of hours had passed since she had arrived back at Hogwarts and settled in. She was currently sitting alone in front of the fireplace with a few quills and scrolls spread around her. She looked up when the portrait swung open to admit Draco, who looked tired as he trudged in. His hair was disheveled again, and he had dirt smeared all over his fine aristocratic face.

 

“Rough practice?” she asked mildly, her eyes scanning his uniform, noting the rips and tears.

 

He shook his head. “Just a new training regime. Your boyfriend isn’t taking your breakup too nicely.”

 

Sighing, she responded, “We didn’t break up; I just needed time away.”

 

“Maybe tell him that first before you take it. He used me and the other lads as target practice out there,” he said with a quiet voice, passing her to undress in front of the fireplace. Off came the jersey, knee and elbow pads, and cloak to reveal an oak coloured thermal jumper and Muggle jeans.

 

He flicked his wand and all the dirt and debris vanished from his face and body. He then sat down heavily to summon a cup of strong coffee over from the kitchen.

 

“Who are you and what have you done to Draco Malfoy?”she asked, her eyes tracking from his disheveled hair to his Muggle jeans.

 

He shrugged. “So, what's this about a Yule ball?”

 

She pointed to her charts, and he leaned in to inspect Astoria’s proposal and Hermione's amendments. He noted the decorations she chose as well as the theme, music, and budget. He also noted the orders of butterbeer from Hogsmeade Village, the banners that would need to be transfigured, and the charmed christmas trees from France.

 

While he quietly sipped his coffee, she considered his previous words.

 

“Did he seem terribly upset?” she asked.

 

Not looking up, he replied, “He was an inch away from using an Unforgivable on us, so I’d say so. But I’m sure whatever he did fit the punishment.”

 

Meeting his eyes, those cool depths of silver edged with grey, she asked, “Did he tell you anything?”

 

He shrugged, then sat back to set his coffee cup down on a black side table before answering, “No, but I can tell you this: Nott is traditional. He doesn’t do something without a reason. He’s a good person, but you know that.”

 

Guilt twisted in her gut again, and she sat still for a moment. She really just wanted to end things with him, but she didn't have a legitimate excuse other than her righteous anger. She looked up at Draco and replied, “yes, I know. I just don’t know what to say to him.”

 

Silence stretched out until she suddenly noticed a slim black leather journal poking out of his satchel. Catching on, he snatched it out and held it out to her with a flicker in his eye, “Maybe this will help.”

 

She took the journal carefully, throwing him a questioning look.She inspected it with great curiosity and noted its age-worn pages and buttery leather cover, but that wasn’t what stole her breath. What drew and held her attention wasn’t what the journal looked like, but what was embellished in cursive on its front:

 

_Blood Magic_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Thankyou so much to Naarna & Chanda Williams for reviewing this fic*


	5. A Prophecy

Head Girl Quarters, Fall Term

 

Hermione slid deeper down in the tub and closed her eyes. A compact wooden tray hovered just above her with the journal. She hadn’t opened it up yet, but knew she had to—it’d been almost a week since Draco had given her the journal. She still found it odd that he had just handed it over to her so nonchalantly.

 

She had seen him with it before. She had just never asked him about it before, only thought it odd for him to own a journal. She wasn’t being sexist, she was fully aware than men wrote it journals and had the right to. But,  it wasn’t in his character to write in a journal. Or at least, it didn’t fit the character she knew him to previously emulate. Now he was a completely different person; if she were honest, she’d think he was under an Imperio. But she knew he wasn’t. The War had obviously taken its toll on him and changed his very nature. He no longer strutted around the hallways of Hogwarts like he owned the place. Instead, he walked quietly and was attentive to any misdemeanors that might merit him stepping in. He worked late into the night in the library—as far as she knew—with all of his reading and assignments. Every Tuesday and Thursday, she noticed he was gone from the Heads Dormitories, and she deduced he was probably helping Professor Slughorn. He had irrevocably changed—for the better.

 

Of course, she would take the journal from him; it would’ve be rude not to, but she was moved by his entreaty nonetheless. What she wasn’t prepared for was its contents. Blood magic. She had read about that; it was practised centuries ago in older pureblood families to create bonds of marriage and servitude between two people. What was more odd was that all evidence or documentation of it had been erased from wizarding society. It was considered illegal and punishable by imprisonment in Azkaban. The reason for such dire measures was because it couldn’t be undone. Once a blood magic ritual was carried out, no law or counter-curse could break it. It was binding and overruled anything and everyone. _But why would Draco Malfoy, a redeemed Slytherin and former Death Eater, be carrying it around? Why did he freely give it to her? How would it help her speak to Theo about her feelings?_

 

She could rack her brain all night, but she knew the answers didn’t lie in suspicions but in fact. She just needed to open this infernal journal and read, but that meant foregoing all her other commitments. Earlier that week, she had given Headmistress McGonagall the amended Yule ball proposal, and it had since been approved. Now she had the task of actually implementing that, which meant trips to Hogsmeade and working with Argus Filch to carry everything out. Merlin, she hated that man. It also meant she had to find a date, as she was also charged with opening the ball.

 

She was still dodging Theo, who sent her pleading looks half the time when he saw her in passing. She wasn’t asking him, but she knew who she secretly wanted to ask. She wouldn’t though, because that would just be strange. Unless it would be portrayed as a political thing, the Head Girl and Boy opening the ball. However, that also meant actually speaking to him again. On the Sunday she got back, when she had spoken to him, he had seemed pretty normal—which was relative to how he'd been behaving towards her recently. But she still felt like she were approaching some sort of magical creature that could retreat at any moment; he needed to be handled with care and diplomacy.

 

She also knew Theo would not react well if she didn't ask him to the ball. She had already noticed that he was very possessive of her. She did nothing to let on that her feelings for him were anything more than surface deep. Before the news about her blood status and their resulting dispute, he had only come to her rooms to shag her senseless. She had only Apparated to Nott Manor during the summer to ride away her frustrations. Their relationship was nothing more than an extended booty call, if she were being crass. She knew Harry would disapprove of her actions, but she also knew Harry had his own demons to battle. He had gone to New Zealand last March and just never returned. For all she knew, he could be in a hovel or banging everything on two legs. At least she wasn’t being a complete harlot and taking various men to her rooms, open and wanton about it. She was being discreet; not even Ginny or Anna knew about her relationship. She believed very fiercely that everyone, witch or wizard, should have their privacy. What they chose to do behind closed doors was theirs to own. She knew her relationship with Theo wasn’t roses and strawberry-coloured wine but she had never wanted that, anyway,when she had noticed him staring hotly at her in Ogden's Pub. She wanted someone to make her forget the last year. She had wanted to bury herself in him and only feel pleasure in the most carnal way possible. Yes, she did have hopes that their relationship would develop into something more meaningful, but she couldn't make her heart change or feel something that wasn't there. Why didn't she sever ties with him? Because at this moment in time, she chose to be selfish and sometimes, being selfish was what was needed. However, her feelings were changing and not where Theo was concerned. No, she had very recently been catching on to her line of thinking and where her eyes strayed on occasion. She was attracted, in a miniscule way, to Draco Malfoy.

 

She readjusted in the bath, and recalled how earlier that week her attraction to him became apparent to her. She had gone down to the Black Lake to practise yoga when she encountered him.

_The Black Lake, Fall Term_

 

_The sun was only beginning to rise, but she was already up finishing an Arithmancy essay due later that month. After several edits and contemplating just seeking out Theo to release all her tension, she forced herself outdoors with something different in mind. She knew with her thoughts of the journal and her assignments, Draco would be a mixtape on repeat, so she set out to do yoga._

 

_She breathed through the sun salutations and after 15 repetitions, she pivoted to take the warrior two pose. Closing her eyes, she went lower in her stance to deepen the stretch; that was when she felt a prickling sensation at her nape. Turning her head slightly, she spotted him down the bank. He was standing further down the lake than she, but his presence alone made it hard for her to focus._

 

_She turned back to focus on her practice, put everything out of her mind, and lowered herself into the Tittibhasana pose—an extremely difficult position that required finesse. Over the past few days, she’d been focusing on Draco way too much; she had constantly found herself looking for him. She wanted to ask him more about the journal, which she was struggling not to read. Professor Vector had given her a text inscribed by Pictish wizards. She was excited to start translating, but she was equally curious about the journal._

 

_Unable to resist, she turned her head slowly back to him and just observed. He seemed to be looking for something. With gloved hands, he was scooping what looked like algae into clear vials, so quietly focused that it gave her pause. He really seemed to enjoy whatever he was doing. His eyes were bright, and his lips were quirked as he rubbed a bit of the green slime between his fingers._

 

_Then, as if noticing her attention, he looked up and met her eyes, depositing the vials in his cloak, and stood up slowly._

 

_Lowering herself back down, she breathed deeply before she moved to take the Eka Pada Koundinyasana I pose. This move had taken her weeks of daily practice to perfect and she still struggled to hold it for more than a minute._

 

_“Bendy,” he said._

 

_Angling her head to him, she asked, “Pardon?”_

 

_He closed the distance between them, even going as far as to crouch. She went a tad cross-eyed at that and knew—she just knew—she was blushing._

 

_“I’ve just never seen such a flexible witch. Did you know that light stretching promotes fertility?” His eyes danced a little at that._

 

_Confused, she simply stared at him before asking, “How is that relevant?”_

 

_At this his face went blank. “So you haven’t read the journal yet.”_

 

_“No I haven’t, I’ll get to it when I get to it.”_

 

_“Read it.” he pleaded, his eyes flashing silver. With that, he walked away, leaving her to stare in confusion and bafflement at his retreating figure._

 

_When he was finally out of sight, she realized she’d been holding the Eka Pada Koundinyasana I pose for the past five minutes._

 

She closed her eyes and groaned, sliding back further under the soap water. She knew that if she picked that book up, things would change. She didn’t know how she knew, but she knew that those changes wouldn’t be the positive kind. These life-altering changes would have to do with him, and she wasn’t completely obtuse—there was truth to what Ginny said earlier that term. He’d been watching her, sending her long searching looks. She’d been noticing him in turn, fixating on how he had changed and how he comported himself. There was attraction there; she just wasn’t sure how to go about addressing it.

 

What if whatever was in that book entailed she was to be some kind of slave? What if her ancestors made some dodgy life decisions in their haste for a magical child? What if that decision directly impacted her somehow? She knew she was over thinking this, since it could very well be nothing.Maybe it meant she had to work for Malfoy Industries, which wouldn't be too bad in her opinion, as they had a division in Dublin that dealt with manuscripts. Closing her eyes, as to quell her thoughts, she tried to relax.

\----------------------------------

_Smooth hands slid down into the warm bath water to cup her heavy breasts. Lips curving, she hummed in pleasure as those hands gently rubbed a floral oil into them. They kept kneading and rubbing until she squirmed with pleasure. When they stopped, they moved to glide over her pregnant belly, and stroke the skin there gently._

 

_Moaning, she lifted her breasts up and he bent down to gently take one dusky engorged nipple into his mouth. His silver hair gently brushed her neck as he moved to her other breast. He then lifted his head when he felt the baby kick._

 

_“Rigel is playful tonight,” Draco whispered into her ear._

 --------------------------------------------

 

She woke up with a start, still in the tub with the journal hovering in front of her. Pressing a hand to her racing heart, she sat up in the tub. Her mind was spinning; she knew it was just a dream, but it unnerved her. She dreamed she was pregnant, and Draco was evidently the father of the child she carried. Oh yes, she was definitely attracted to him.

 

The dream was simply a way of her subconscious poking at her. It manifested the way it did because he had been talking about fertility earlier. But she could no longer deny her wretched feelings.

 

It was just a terrifyingly erotic dream. She found him attractive because he was. He was downright sexy, to be perfectly honest. He was tall, lean, and and possessed a sexual rawness that was alluring, such as a professional dancer might have. His hair always looked like he just came back from flying; his skin was smooth over the muscles in his arms, legs, and chest. He was also very intelligent, or Professor Slughorn wouldn't be accepting his services. The Potions Master was notoriously snobby when it came to brewing potions. The fact that he selected Draco meant he was impressed by him.

 

That in turn, coupled with his new attitude and quiet demeanor, was downright appealing—Merlin help her.

 

Mind made up, she picked up the book to begin reading.

 

_...I never knew why Mother and Father sheltered me the way they did...One day, Mother sat me down and told me I was a seer, a gift given to select Anjou women...I learned later that a curse had been cast on our line centuries ago…the last male born to our line died in 1690…On my 17th birthday I had a vision…A Muggle-born witch would be our salvation...born to our line and the brightest witch of her age…born a Gryffindor, to a mother who had forsaken her lineage…She would bind herself in marriage to another, a Malfoy boy…born to a dark family...a Slytherin named after a dragon, who would give her sons…Anjou wizards will again breathe the air we breathe and wield their elemental magic…To secure this prophecy, to ensure it takes place, I have made contact with my rival Luisa Malfoy…we crafted and forged a blood magic ritual. But there was a price, as there always is with blood magic…the Anjou line would lose their magic until the witch of prophecy was born….the Malfoy line would only bear one son per generation...that was the price each of our families paid in order to ensure the union of our heirs. There’s also a price on their heads…They have until their 25th birthdays to wed and produce five male heirs or both will perish and both our lines would cease to be…To help bolster their union, powerful fail-safe spells will ensure our heirs may only conceive with each other…I hope that when our heirs learn of their fate, they will understand...elemental magic must be resurrected. It must live in our world again..._

 

Hermione closed the book and just stared at her shaking hands as everything began to fall into place: the tapestry, her family, Draco’s behavior towards her. This journal wasn’t just one about Blood Magic; it belonged to her ancestor Eliza Anjou. Eliza Anjou had forged a blood magic pact with Luisa Malfoy, binding their descendants together. _How did Draco have this? Why did he give to her only now? What was the full prophecy, word for word? When was this prophecy made? Did her mother know about this?_ Her mind was spinning, but at least she had the facts.

 

She knew now why Draco gave her this journal, why it would help her talk to Theo.She was the Anjou witch prophesied about, and Draco was the Malfoy heir. They were fated for each other.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Thankyou so much to Naarna & Chanda Williams for reviewing this fic*


	6. Fated

_Malfoy Manor, Summer 1999_

 

_Lucius Malfoy sat at his desk re-writing a brief proposal letter to Cygnus Greengrass, one that would more than likely lead to another round of negotiations._

 

_June 10_

 

_Cygnus Greengrass_

 

_As you're well aware my son is currently in Argentina and cannot publically court Astoria until next September. He has accepted the betrothal pending his acceptance into St. Mungo`s. I understand you require his presence in England, but his academic career is more pressing at the moment. I`m sure Astoria can take this time to ponder her own academic ambitions--should she have any. If not, Narcissa is happy to have Astoria over to learn how Malfoy Manor is ran. I have reviewed the contract you sent over and accepted the terms where they involve Astoria. Please review the conditions I`ve underlined for Draco, as he has his own stipulations._

 

_Engagement Contract:_

 

_Draco Malfoy, scion of Malfoy House offers his hand in marriage to Astoria Greengrass. Their engagement shall last exactly one year and their binding ceremony shall take place on Samhain. The following are the agreed upon terms:_

 

 

  * __Astoria will publicly court Draco for one year prior to marriage.__


  * _Astoria shall live privately in a Malfoy Dower Manor, while Draco is studying to be a Healer._


  * _Greengrass Estates shall fund Draco's Healership at St. Mungo's._


  * _Astoria will provide Draco with an heir--after he completes his Healership at St. Mungos_



 

 

_Lucius Malfoy_

 

_Malfoy Head of House_

 

_“Lucius, is that the betrothal contract?” Narcissa asked excitedly, reaching for the parchment, only to retract her hand with a hiss._

 

_The scroll started to smoke and crinkle as black fire consumed it. Narcissa jumped when a gravelly voice began speaking:_

 

_“Draco will not marry the Greengrass girl. He is already promised to another.”_

 

_Lucius and Narcissa turned to the portrait of Abraxas Malfoy. Narcissa sputtered out, “On whose word? If we join our family will the Greengrass family, we’ll regain status in society.”_

 

_“You cannot break Blood Magic, Narcissa,” cackled Abraxas_

 

_Lucius paled and turned to his father. “Who is it, Father? Who is Draco promised to?”_

 

_Abraxas scowled at his son from his portrait. “Did you not listen to the stories your mother told you as a child? Those stories of seers, alchemists, and elemental magic?”_

 

_Narcissa looked at Abraxas with a mixture of shock and awe . “Elemental magic died out centuries ago. Lucius, make him see reason.”_

 

_But Lucius’ eyes glowed when he asked his next question. “Who is is she, Father? Where is she?”_

 

_Abraxas laced his fingers together before replying. “In Caille. There's a portrait of Eliza Anjou there—she's a crafty one, she never revealed herself to her descendant. She recognized her magical heiress the second she stepped foot in Anjou Manor. Tell me Lucius, Narcissa, where is Draco?”_

 

_Narcissa looked at Lucius, who's face was lit up to reply. “He's with his friend Rolf in South America. He is scheduled to return next month–”_

 

_“Tell him he needs to return to England immediately. He has an obligation to the Anjou heiress.” Abraxas sneered._

 

_“Who is this witch, Father? Tell me,” Lucius said, pleading._

 

_Abraxas smiled. “Eliza told me she's the brightest witch of her age. That she helped defeat Tom Riddle and was tortured on your ballroom floor.”_

 

_Narcissa's flew to her mouth. “It can't be.”_

 

_“Hermione Granger,” Lucius whispered to himself._

 

_Abraxas laughed knowingly. “Oh, I think you mean Hermione Anjou.”_

 

Gryffindor Tower, Fall Term

 

Two weeks passed since she learned of the prophecy and its ties to Blood Magic.But, Hermione spent every bit of it in the library researching. She found no trace of it, not in books or records or archives of any sort. In the end, she simply sat in the Hogwarts Library with the journal Draco gave her. She read it front to back and discerned one thing: Blood Magic was the highest law of magic. It was unbreakable, no law or spell in existence could undo a pact once forged. There was more to it too. If she or Draco were to lay with another they wouldn’t produce any progeny. If she rejected Draco Malfoy, or he her, they would both die at midnight on their 25th birthdays. He was her fate, and somehow he knew before she did. But he didn’t come off like he was lording the information over her head; no, he seemed just as shocked—but the kind of shock that turns into quiet resolve over time. He was possibly alerted sooner: having this journal was testament to that. She wasn’t angry at him. At this point, she just felt exhausted. She finally gave up to seek out Ginny in Gryffindor Tower—a place that always managed to calm her nerves.

 

Ginny sat there gobsmacked as Hermione explained everything. She handed over the journal at Ginny’s request and watched as the redhead checked for curses. She knew there would be non. Tinzy herself had inspected it and proclaimed it legitimate, written by the hand of an Anjou witch. Tinzy also told her that old wizarding families always kept journals, and they were usually passed down. She was puzzled why Draco Malfoy, of all people, would have it, but she put that aside for now.

 

“There’s no way out of this, Hermione. From what I’m reading here, you don’t have a choice,” Ginny said, looking at Hermione consolingly.

 

She folded her arms and stared beseechingly at her friend. There was nothing she could do at this point. She was a studious witch but even she knew there was no messing with Blood Magic. It wasn’t something you dissected like Flobberworms, or mastered like Legilimency. It was Dark Magic, the kind that destroyed lives. She just wished she felt an ounce of remorse for what it meant for her dalliance with Theo.

 

“Have you thought of what you’re going to say to Theo?” Ginny asked, looking at her.

 

“How did you know?” She asked quietly.

 

“Come on, Hermione. The entire castle knows about you two. I’ve seen him follow you out of the Great Hall, the way he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful witch since Morgana. You have to let him go ‘Mione,” Ginny whispered.

 

Hermione nodded. Yes, she did have to let him go.She was prepared to regardless of this complication. Her relationship with him wasn’t sustainable.He was a wonderful friend, an exuberant lover, but he didn’t stir her blood the way she imagined a man should. Ever since the Daily Prophet had printed that article, they hadn’t been on speaking terms. But at the same time, there was truth to Ginny’s words and to her gut feeling. She knew he loved her, even though he hadn’t told her so yet. She felt it in the way he touched her, she saw it in his eyes before he kissed her. How then could she look at him and tell him she couldn’t be with him anymore? Even if she did return his feelings, which she had tried so hard to but didn’t—she had assumed intimacy would open the lock in her heart, but it seemed it was quite the opposite. She didn't feel anything for him besides empathy, and she knew he would take this hard.He would try to fight for her, she knew, and for that reason she wouldn't lead him on. She didn’t have the kind of black heart it required; he was human, too. She just didn’t know how to word it in a way that wouldn’t hurt him, so she turned to Ginny.

 

“How?” she asked, insecurity letting her voice shake.

 

Ginny just shook her head again. “I don’t have an answer to that one, Hermione.”

 

The Black Lake, Fall Term

 

Hermione sat on the lake bank, hugged her legs and stared out at the lake. It was crystal clear and smooth as glass so that all the stars reflected off its surface. She was waiting for him out here. She had given a note to Astoria Greengrass from Slytherin to give to him. The girl had snidely curtsied and skipped off. She knew he would come; he’d been trying to reach out to her for days now. When a hand gripped her shoulder, she looked up into his pale eyes.

 

“Please, can you sit?” she asked. She smiled faintly when she saw him nod and sit down beside her to look out at the lake.  

 

He only just got back from his visit with his father when Astoria gave him a note from Hermione, which entreated him to meet her down at Black Lake. Thoros Nott had sat his heir down, his son who had his dead wife’s eyes, and told him of Blood Magic. He wanted to be the one to tell his son that the witch he loved was promised to someone else. Theo wouldn’t believe it, not until Hermione told him herself. He knew that was what she planned to do this night. He knew and came anyway. He had to hear her say the words.

 

“Hermione?” he prompted her, gently taking her shaking hand in his.

 

“I can’t see you anymore, Theo,” she murmured softly, lightly—as though if she said it quietly enough it wouldn’t harm him. When his hands only squeezed hers, she looked up.

 

“I know. That’s why my father summoned me home,” he said. He knew she didn’t realize he had been gone, but then again she had blatantly ignored him for weeks now. He felt badly for acting the way he did, but it couldn’t be helped. That was neither here nor there.

 

“I see,” she said shortly.

 

“But this changes nothing, we can still be together. The Blood Magic only pertains to you marrying him, to him giving you sons. It doesn’t mean you can’t be with me,” he said slowly, trying to reason with her.

 

“Theodore. Even if that were true, I couldn’t do that to you. You can’t ask me to live a lie like that,” she replied softly. She turned to him then and just looked at him. “I can’t be with you Theo. I couldn’t hurt you like that.”

 

“I would do anything for you, Hermione. I would wait for you. I’ll even try to find a way out of this...,” he began, but she just shook her head at him.

 

An eagle owl hooted in the distance and made its way over the glassy lake to skim its talons in the water. It then arched higher to fly into the depths of the castle, letter for its master tied to its foot. Theo followed its regal progress, then met Hermione’s solemn eyes.

 

“I’ve spent hours in the library. I even spoke to Professor Binns; there’s no loophole, no law that could overturn it. Blood Magic, the kind my ancestors cast, is binding. I read the Anjou diaries back to front. My ancestors left no room for misinterpretation. Eliza Anjou and Luisa Malfoy even wove failsafe curses into the ritual. Draco and I will never be able to conceive without each other. Both our lines will essentially die out: both of us will die.”

 

“But how does it know that it means Draco?” Theo asked quietly.

 

“I won’t pretend to know how Blood Magic works. I also don’t know the full prophecy that Eliza Anjou foresaw, at least not first-hand. She singled me out directly, as I was the first witch to be born to the Anjou line in over a hundred years. She singled Draco out, I’m theorizing, because he’s a Slytherin and hailed from a dark family. She also called him a dragon, and the name Draco means Dragon in Latin.”

 

“But why did you only just find this out?” he asked skeptically.

 

She shrugged. “I suppose because the knowledge was lost through the years. I only just learned that I'm an Anjou because my great-grandmother bequeathed me her manor. The Malfoys must have been aware of that, somehow, before I even found out.”

 

Theo sat there for a moment, then turned to her. “So what happens now? Can I still see you until you have to marry him? When does that happen? Did the bloody blood magic decide that for you too?” he asked through clenched teeth.

 

Hermione knew Theo was hurt, but she also knew she had to hear him out—she owed him that much.

 

“Theo, I care about you. I do. I’ve been thinking long and hard about this, before this prophecy even came to my attention. We’re not fit for each other, not in the way that I thought we would be. I’m glad I met you that day in London,you gave me release—but that’s all it’s amounted to. I don’t want to hold on to something that I didn’t have a firm grip on before.”

 

He worked his jaw angrily to grit out, “And what, Draco gets to just have you now?”

 

She clenched her fists and breathed through her nose at that. Did he think she was some sort of ornament or object that was no longer his? She quelled her momentary rage and told herself that he was just put-out. No one liked to be rejected. When she broke up with Ron, he stormed out and didn’t speak to her for weeks. She also knew he felt territorial, as men often tended to. She couldn’t blame him, nor could she lash out at him because she knew he was simply smarting. So she simply looked at him in what she hoped was benevolence and tried to push down her own feelings.

 

“Would that make you happy? Would you be able to kiss me and undress me knowing there’s a deadline on our relationship?” she whispered.

 

“Yes,” he said. “Let’s go to Lake Como and lock the bedroom. Let’s go to Chile and see the stars blaze there. Let’s go to Provence and breathe in lavender as we wake and before we sleep.”

 

Hermione softened and took his hands gently in hers to repeat, “I can’t be with you Theo.”

Slytherin Common Room, Fall 1999

 

Where Gryffindor Common Room was all reds, golds, plush chairs, and roaring fires, Slytherin Common Room was black diamonds, emeralds, paneled windows, and black candles. The ethereal, phosphorus light bounced off the windows that faced the Black Lake. It was nightfall, which meant all Slytherin seventh and eighth years were draped around the common, wine glasses in hand.

 

When Draco entered with Blaise, his eyes went immediately to Theo, who sat with a crystal snifter of amber liquid and a witch on his lap. The witch, a fifth-year half blood named Gwenievere Chateau, was evidently selected for her looks. She had long golden brown curls that fell in ringlets to her thighs. Her skin was pale brown, she had large dark eyes, and she was very petite. In short, she looked very much like Hermione. The witch also had her top buttoned down,her breasts exposed. This wasn’t abnormal, as most of the witches in Slytherin, at least at this hour, were in varying states of undress. The Prefects were nowhere to be seen, and Daphne Greengrass was all but shagging Thomas Avery in the shadows.

 

Blaise leaned in close to him and pointed. “Looks like he found a replacement. Even looks like her.”

 

Draco turned his face to Blaise and shook his head. “Not in the slightest. Hermione’s hair is wild, glossy, untamed. Her skin is sun-kissed, not spelled like Chateau's. If Theo considers her a replacement, I don’t even know why I’m here.”

 

“You’re here because he’s your mate. You’ve known him since you were in nappies, just as I knew you. We may be Slytherins, but we’re nothing without each other,” Blaise whispered back in a hiss.

 

Draco sighed then ambled up to Theo, who turned from the witch to stare coolly at his two mates.

 

“What brings the great Head Boy and his lackey to Slytherin Dungeon? What, you want her too?” Theo sneered, looking back at the witch who moved to kiss the column of his white throat.

 

Draco cringed and looked away when Theo turned to grope her breast, making the witch preen.

 

“We’re not here to spoil your supper, Nott. We’re here to talk to you, as your mates,” Blaise said, his eyes levelled on Theo.

 

Theo adjusted the witch on his lap to lean forward. “ Fine, talk. You have my attention. You can’t have this one, though, ‘mate.’ She’s mine.” He leered and reached down to pinch the witch’s bottom as she giggled.

 

“I don’t want her. Can we not talk in private?” Draco asked quietly, his tone laced with frustration and distaste.

 

Theo pushed the witch off his lap, making her pout, and stood to walk to the Boys Dormitory. Draco looked at Blaise before following him. The Boys Dormitory was just as Draco remembered—dark with mahogany bedframes and heavy black curtains imbued with Silencios for when witches came to call. Unlike other Hogwarts Houses, Slytherin was forthcoming when it came to student relations. Granted, the Prefects only turned a blind eye to fifth-years and above.

 

Theo sat down heavily and lifted up his hands. Both Draco and Blaise could tell their mate had been drinking, heavily so. His eyes were glazed, and his black hair stood on end the way Potter’s used to. However, where Potter’s face was kind and open, Theo’s was closed and twisted with hate.

 

“Well, you wanted private. This is private. What could you possibly say to me? Somehow you’ve managed to take my witch from me. Somehow your blasted ancestors bound you to the woman I love. What could you possibly say to make that better in the slightest?” Theo seethed through his alcohol faze.

 

Draco sat across from him on a stool and clasped his hands together before speaking.

 

“You think I did this on purpose? That my intention is to bind myself to your girlfriend? Because if you think that, you’re clearly addled. Do you understand what’s at stake if we don’t comply? She will die; her entire line will die out, as will mine. Did she not explain this to you? Because if I know her, and I believe I do, she must’ve read that journal I gave her inside out.”

 

“You gave her! Why did you have to give it to her now? Why not last year? Why let your deranged aunt torture her senseless if you knew? Why couldn’t you wait?” Theo sniped back.

 

“I only just found out! Last May! I was in Argentina with Rolf, studying to be a Healer, but now that’s all tossed to shite. I was called back and my dead grandfather told me to get in line. As for time, we have none. We’re 19; we have 6 years to marry and produce heirs or we’re both dead. Do you not understand?” Draco lashed out.

 

Blaise looked between his friends, both red-faced and breathing hard.

 

“Did anyone ask her how she feels about this?” Blaise asked quietly, making both boys turn to him.

 

“Of course I know how she feels. She feels trapped, ensnared by a bloody family that wants to turn her into a brood mare. I’m not having it, you and I.” Theo bit out, motioning towards him and Draco. “We’re done. I’m leaving. I won’t sit here and write a Merlin forsaken arithmancy essay while the witch I love suffers.”

 

He stormed out, leaving Draco and Blaise to look at each other in awkward silence.

 

“Is there a way to break it?”Blaise asked, after a few moments.

 

Draco shook his head, “There’s a reason why its banned. It’s only practised now in Beijing, but no, there’s no way. It’s binding: once a pact is forged, there’s no undoing it”.

 

Blaise turned to look out the doorway which Theo went through, “You have to talk to her, see if she can make him see reason.”

 

Draco remained silent. Yes, he did have to speak to her. Not just about Theo, but about the clock that counted down over their heads. Unless they married and produced heirs by their 25th birthdays, neither of them would be able to help anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Thankyou so much to Naarna & Chanda Williams for reviewing this fic*


	7. A Discussions

Anjou Manor, Fall 1999

 

Hermione lay sprawled across the thick white fur throw on her bedroom floor. A fire roared nearby and a downy pillow was propped under her head. She held a glass of wheatgrass juice in one hand and had the journal pressed to her chest. Her head was still reeling from the events that had taken place last week. After Theo had walked away, she had penned a note to Headmistress McGonagall and taken the Floo home for the weekend. By Wednesday, she still hadn’t returned to Hogwarts. Instead, she’d turned in all her assignments through the Floo, with Ginny and Anna acting as her emissaries.

 

They’ve been willingly collecting all of her assignments with the help of Astoria Greengrass—who had also stepped up to assist them break protocol.

At Hogwarts, assignments and readings were recorded by all House Prefects. Ginny and Anna were in all her classes, except Ancient Runes. So Astoria, who also took Ancient Runes, opted to lend a hand. Hermione didn’t consider why the uppity witch would deign to help her, but she wouldn’t say no to a gift freely given. Usually each House Prefect needed special permission to share the contents of their records from the Headmistress as per Hogwarts school rules, but Minerva McGonagall was currently in France attending a conference. Hermione knew she couldn’t keep up the charade and would have to return to Hogwarts eventually. She just was at a loss. She supposed they felt her absence was called for. It was—she needed time to process but she wouldn't let her academic prowess suffer.

 

She recounted the facts again: she had to marry Draco Malfoy—a boy she found outrageously attractive—thereby hurting Theo Nott, who she’d been shagging up till three weeks ago. She had until her 25th birthday to conceive five heirs, not one, but five. If that didn’t turn someone barmy, she didn’t know what would, and, on top of that, if she didn’t, she would die. Surely her ancestor had to be mad, but, then again, witches in the 18th century usually bore multiple children. Some of those children even died due to illness. Maybe Eliza stated five to ensure at least one survived. However, this wasn’t 1850, it was 1999 and there were now cures for Dragon Pox and other ailments. Regardless, she had to carry and birth five children with Draco Malfoy.

 

“Is Mistress sure she's comfortable on the floor?” Tinzy asked hesitantly from the doorway.

 

Hermione turned to her house-elf and nodded before she asked, on a lark, “Tinzy, do you know anything about the Blood Magic pact?”

 

Tinzy clasped her hands. “Tinzy’s former Mistress Shirley forbade Tinzy from telling Mistress of the prophecy. But now that Mistress knows, Tinzy can answer your questions.”

 

Hermione sat up quickly and thought about what she wanted to ask. She knew immediately that the house-elf only had limited information. But it was Tinzy’s mandate to serve her, but her line of questions should be open-ended.

 

“How will you help me meet my obligation to the Blood Magic pact?” Hermione asked.

 

“Tinzy has prepared a body oil for Mistress. It is meant to prepare your body for pregnancy. Tinzy has also taught Mistress what to eat and how to grow food. Tinzy is helping Mistress prepare Anjou Manor for the wedding, too.”

 

Hermione's eyebrows shot up at that and she mouthed back “wedding”. A few weeks before, Tinzy had talked of preparing the Manor for a wedding. At the time, she thought the house-elf had gone down the bend, but it seemed Tinzy was spot on.

 

“Tinzys thinks Mistress should give the oil to Master Draco. He’ll know what to do with it. Tell him Tinzy added French Lavender and Jasmine to it. Oh, Mistress will look so beautiful in her wedding gown,” Tinzy gushed, clasping her hands to her chest.

 

Hermione raised her eyebrows in mild amusement to ask, “Tell me more about this wedding, Tinzy. Do you have a date in mind?”

 

“Beltane.”

 

Hermione's eyes flew to the fireplace, widened in shock. That smooth, lilting voice definitely didn't belong to Tinzy. She also knew all the staff had left the Manor hours ago to return to their families.

 

There, sitting in her fireplace, was the head of Draco Malfoy, who looked at her evenly.

 

“Hello, Master Draco. Tinzy is very happy to finally meets with you,” Tinzy cheered, clapping her tiny hands.

 

Hermione held out a hand to silence her house-elf and merely stared at Draco. _How did he access the Floo here? Why was he here? How long had he been listening?_ But her brain refused to function, so she just stood there in silence.

 

She watched him sigh and open his mouth to speak. “Hermione, you're required back at Hogwarts. Weasley, Avery, and Greengrass can't cover for you anymore. Your absence has been felt, and the Headmistress will be arriving by nightfall.”

 

“Is Theo alright?” she asked, weighing her options.

 

She couldn't see him fully, but she knew he tensed and replied, “I haven't seen him since you left. I'd like to discuss some things with you. If you'll come through Floo, I'll be waiting in my bedroom.”

 

His head disappeared and left Hermione blushing to the roots of her hair. She turned to see that Tinzy held her navy dragonhide satchel. She sighed as she stood and took the satchel from Tinzy. She then quickly Summoned everything else she might need and bent to toss a pinch of Floo powder into the fire.

 

“Tinzy will see Mistress for Yule.” Tinzy waved before Hermione stepped into the green flames and whirled away.

 

Head Dormitory, Fall 1999

 

Hermione stepped out of the fireplace and sighed heavily. With a glance at the high windows, she noted the moon, full and golden-edged. She made her way across the room and up the staircase. The hallway was dark, quiet, and cool save for the door that stood ajar leading into the Head Boy’s quarters. Making a quick detour into her own room, she dropped her satchel and shimmied out of the dress she wore. She walked to her chest of drawers—a pale stone blue one that she couldn’t live without to pull out a white dress. It was made of a lighter crepe material, and always make her feel pretty.

 

Standing on the threshold, she knocked before pushing the door open. Her room, accented in quiet lavenders and pale blues, was the opposite of Draco's contrasting tones and sage greens. She was struck by the sensuality of it, noting the cedar candles and the black satin bed sheets. Her eyes flew to a hearth where blue flames danced, then to a grey stone chest of drawers piled with potion books. A few miniature cauldrons stood on a low copper table under glass domes, and a few plants scattered on the brass window sill which stood wide open, unadorned. A Firebolt was leaning against it, and a set of Slytherin Quidditch robes were draped over a cedarwood chair.

 

Her eyes met Draco’s as he watched her examination of his bedroom curiously.   

 

“You wanted to talk?” she asked, breaking the silence.

 

He nodded then patted the bed beside him. “I did, yes. Please take a seat.”

 

She walked over and sat down obligingly, albeit a few inches away from him before turning to face him, waiting for him to speak.

 

She watched him search her face. She coloured prettily when his eyes lingered a bit on her lips before flicking up to meet hers. She clasped her hands and looked at him expectantly, which seemed to give him the push he needed.

 

“The war was hard on everyone. My family, having made the decisions they did, suffered for it. We’re trying to change. It took several months of therapy at St.Mungo's, but it’s tricky when it’s our beliefs and old ways that influenced those initial decisions. My family is an old one, we’ve been in Britain for hundreds of years if not more. Therefore we practised and dabbled in Blood Magic. I’m sure you’re aware by now that your ancestor approached mine to make a blood pact. Those pacts, once forged, are binding. I was in Argentina with my mate Rolf Scamander, studying to be a Healer when I was called back to Britain. I was told, in no uncertain terms, that I was betrothed in marriage to the Anjou heiress. I didn’t know that was you right away, but I found out soon enough. That meant a lot of things on my end. You see, I was engaged to be married to Astoria Greengrass, but that contract was burned. I’m not sure why or how Blood Magic works, but I know it's the highest form of magical law. Believe me when I tell you I didn’t mean to come between you and Theodore.” He leaned towards her, sounding all sincere and entreating. “I didn’t tell you immediately because I wanted to give you time, more time than I had. But, as far as I know, there’s no way to break or undo this.”

 

She knew it would be this way, knew there was a reason for his silence. She couldn't blame him for not telling her sooner. She couldn't blame him for thinking of her happiness or Theo’s. She wondered if he knew she broke up with Theo earlier last week? But he had to, he was Theo's friend after all. He didn't appear to begrudge her for it, he knew that the Blood Magic pact ultimately forced her hand—at this point in time, but she was nearing the decision to end things with him anyways. She still was curious about a few things though, regarding moving forward.

 

“So what now? Is there a timeline we have to follow? I’m not a pureblood; I don’t know how courtship works,” she said quietly, introspectively. Tinzy had told her about Pureblood Courtship, and how it had been practised heavily by her family. She knew from her conversations with Anna that the Malfoys would want to adhere to the Pureblood Courtship rules as well. It wasn't done when you were simply seeing someone casually, like she did with Theo. It was done when intentions were being made. It was practised when marriage was the forecasted by-product.

 

“Well, there is actually. I’m sure you know that we have to marry and--,” he began, but stopped to watch her face turn bright red.

 

“Yes, I know that part. But before that. What happens before that?” she asked in a rush.

 

“I don’t know very much about you, Hermione, and I’d like to change that before our marriage in the spring. I suggest we get to know each other, but there are rules I think we should adhere to in light of the Blood Pact and our families’ history,” he answered, his eyes beseeching.

  


She turned fully towards him. She knew he would talk to her about Pureblood Courting. She didn't have enough information on the topic. When Anna told her it was more in-passing and Tinzy had limited information. Draco was a source, he knew the idiosyncrasies of it. “Can you elaborate? You mean Pureblood Courting, correct?”

 

“Yes. It’s what’s done in our world, at least in pureblood society. We would see each other and be seen together, in public. I would give you gifts to symbolize my intentions and you would accompany me to major pureblood society events. For instance Samhain, Yule, Beltane. There are often parties and celebrations around those events. Usually my Head of Family would write yours a letter stating my intent, then we would see each other for a year thereby engaging in the traditional Pureblood Courtship--I would give you courtship gifts, which make my intention clear to Pureblood Society. That's usually done before Courting, depending on the nature of the union. But you and I won't have a typical Courtship. The timeline of events won't exactly apply to us, things will happen faster. But I want us to get to know each other first, before everything else.This isn’t out of the norm. This arrangement, I mean. Arranged marriages have been happening for centuries, and they still do. Thomas Avery is betrothed to Daphne Greengrass. They’re to be married at midnight on Yule.”

 

She nodded, digesting the new information. “You mentioned Beltane earlier. What’s the significance of marriages during celestial events?”

 

“It’s just tradition. It’s steeped in a belief dating back centuries that celestial events imbue the marriages with gifts. It’s not so much that we believe that; it’s just our way. I chose Beltane because it seems fitting. All celestial events are different, but Beltane favours fertility.”

 

At that her face went bright red, as did his when he realized the ramifications of his words.

 

He cleared his throat and continued. “There’s a Hogsmeade visit coming up next weekend. Would you like to go with me?”

 

She searched his face. Here was a boy, a man, who had teased and leered at her for several years because of her blood status. A man who fought on the other side of the previous Wizarding War and lost. A man who had seemingly changed, but still came from a notoriously Dark family. The Malfoys might have changed their ways, but at their core they were still pureblood supremacists. She wondered absently if they’d be having this discussion if she were still a ‘Muggle-born’ and her lineage wasn’t what it was. But she knew they wouldn’t. It was what it was. She was bound to this man, despite everything, and, Merlin help her, she was attracted to him.

 

But what would her friends think? Anna and Ginny knew she was seeing Theo. Ginny confirmed that. How would it look if she suddenly started dating Draco now? But surely they would understand, wouldn’t they? Ginny knew of the Blood Magic pact. She would certainly understand. But then again, it didn’t matter what her friends had to say. It only mattered what she thought. It would be futile to fight the inevitable, but, at the same time, she didn’t want to marry a man she barely knew. She did want to get to know him in a way that would be seen as final, binding to his society.

 

“I’d like to follow pureblood rites of courting. I’ll go to Hogsmeade with you. I'd like to get to know you too I think.” She did, she wanted to learn more about the man who she would marry. She knew when he meant things would happen faster, they would. She knew, at least by Yule or before Beltane, they would be engaged. She also knew that within a year's time, she would be carrying his heir. She didn't want to be construed as a harlot or a pureblood equivalent of one. She also didn't want to shame the family she recently discovered—nor the Malfoys, for that matter. She wanted to do this right, and she would do it this way because it was the most sensible course of action. She was headstrong, but she wasn't slow by any means. If she rejected this on any front, she would die. She cared more for her mortality at this point than being stubborn about it. Not to mention that she was already attracted to him. She just felt badly for how things turned out. She wished she didn't have to hurt Theo the way she had, but she saw the end coming where he was concerned. They weren't compatible, and she wasn't a Seer--she couldn't foretell that when she first started seeing him. But with Draco, she knew it would be different. She didn't know how she knew, but they would be well suited.

 

“All right.”  

 

They looked at each other awkwardly and knew they had more to discuss, but they needed time to process everything already said first.

Nott Manor, Fall Term

Theo sat in his study, musty tomes laid open around him. Various fumes and whispered voices issued from them. A pewter cauldron stood at the far end of the room, and, within its depths, a black liquid bubbled. Ever since he got to Nott Manor four weeks ago, he`d been researching ways to break the Blood Magic. He hadn’t slept in days, but he had a theory. He knew the Ancient Greeks of Mycenae had done it centuries ago. He only had an idea to go by, but he was going to test it tonight.

Running his fingers through his greasy hair, he tensed when the potion stopped bubbling. He lept to his feet and went to ladle a bit of the black liquid into an ink well then brought it carefully over his desk to sit it down.

He rummaged through his satchel and pulled out an old quill, one he purchased from Gu Gong, Beijing, a quill used as a tool in Blood Magic rituals. It was long and wrought in white gold, and its tip was as sharp as a blade--meant to pierce skin and extract blood. He then dipped it into the black potion just as the door to his study was opened by his father.

His father was older now but Theo knew that in his youth he looked like he did. He had the same long wavy hair, but it was threaded with silver. His blue eyes were just as piercing but lined with age. He was tall and lanky but some of his muscle tone had vanished since his previous imprisonment in Azkaban. He still had the Grecian features that served him well in his youth, but at the moment his face was awash with concern.

“Theo, you’re tampering with very old magic.” Thoros warned him in his lilting baritone voice.

Theo ignored his father and instead began to scratch the quill on a bit of parchment before he paused. “I have to try. She doesn’t have a choice in this. I can’t sit back and watch while they turn her into a bloody broodmare.”

“What are you writing there?” Thoros asked. His heart quickened as he noticed the parchment his son wrote on begin to smoke.

Theo turned back to the parchment and watched as black fire ate at its edges, then started as it grazed his skin. He flinched. He expected it to burn, but it didn't. It only continued to move up and across his body. When he started to feel drowsy, he struggled to keep writing. But, the quill he was using turned to smoke. His vision began to blur, and his last conscious thought was of how much he loved Hermione before he slumped in his seat.

Thoros ran to cradle his son's head before it hit the table then looked up to watch black fire turn everything in Theo’s study to smoke.

Later that night, when Theo was being tended to by three different healers from St.Mungo’s Thoros sat down in the Nott family library to draft a letter.

* * *

 

_Nott Manor_

_62 Drury_

_Wales_

_November 10_

_Hermione Anjou,_

 

_My name is Thoros Nott, and I’m writing to you in regards to my son. As I’m sure you’re aware, his feelings for you are resolute, but they need to be culled. He’s a passionate young man, stubborn and tenacious when it comes to his belongings. Hermione, you may not like this, but he considers you part of that company. From recent letters I’ve discerned he was previously in Beijing doing research into Blood Magic. As soon as he returned home, he began working on some sort of spell, charm, or potion to help break the pact that affects you and young Mr. Malfoy. Despite my son's efforts, Blood Magic cannot be broken—he was tricked by a peddler in Gu Gong. He failed to realize that once a pact is forged, nothing, not a spell or a law, can overturn it. For that reason, I beseech you not to tamper with it, but to adhere to its requirements. I’ve lost too much, as has Theo, and it would be a cruel twist of fate if you were to fall to its repercussions._

 

_I highly suggest you and Mr. Malfoy do not follow Theo’s example, as I wouldn’t wish my son’s fate on either of you.Theo is now in a coma and the Mediwitches have no idea how to break it. Blood Magic is banned in Britain and, as such, fell out of style with many of the old families centuries ago. It’s no longer spoken of, so the Mediwitches aren’t familiar with how it works and are consequently unable wake my son. I beg of you to relay information or provide any assistance you or Mr. Malfoy can to help what is left of my family. Hermione, I also beg you not to visit my son. Your fate is sealed, and, should Theo recover, I don't want to see him in more pain._

 

_Sincerely,_

_Thoros Nott_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Thankyou so much to Naarna & Chanda Williams for reviewing this fic*


	8. A Kiss

The Great Hall, Fall 1999

 

Hermione sat across from Anna and Ginny, who were all but gawking at her. She had just told them about Theo, the Blood Magic that negated their relationship, and her subsequent ‘understanding’ with Draco Malfoy--all in one sitting, while she ate her oatmeal.

 

“Wait, so let me get this straight. You were banging Theodore Nott, the sultry Grecian Adonis and captain of the Slytherin Quidditch Team, but you felt nothing? Describe nothing, because if I were with Nott, I know I’d be feeling those biceps of his,” Anna said, her eyes bright and her lips curved into a smirk.

 

“I can’t explain it. We had a very physical relationship. He was a very generous lover--don’t get me wrong, but it was all physical. There was no conversation between us, other than pillow talk--which, Merlin, he was excellent at. To sum it all up, he was my lover, but he wasn’t my partner.”

 

Ginny pointed her fork at Hermione and said, “And that’s the issue with you. You need someone who can spar with you intellectually as well as stir your blood. That’s why things didn’t work out between you and my hapless brother. I thought Nott was smart, no?”

 

“He was—he is smart. But he’s never interested in talking to me about anything work-related. I know, from just observing him in class, that he’s really into Ancient Runes. He always very active in class discussions. But when he’s with me, in my bedroom, all he’s interested in are these,” she replied, smoothing her hands over her breasts discreetly.

 

“Oh, okay. That’s fair, I reckon. So, what now? You let Malfoy fondle them?” Anna asked and waggled her eyebrows.

 

Hermione flushed in embarrassment again only to look up as owls swooped in with the day's post. Ginny laughed, and Anna folded her arms and sat back with a sigh.

 

A beautiful eagle owl swept over to her and held out its leg, on which a small box was attached. Hermione untied the box and fed the owl a bit of bacon off of Ginny’s plate, which caused the girl to curse colourfully at her, then watched the owl fly away.

 

“What did you order?” Anna asked with interest, her eyes dancing over the silver square box inscribed with Malfoy in cursive on the lid.

 

Her face still red, she opened the box to lift out a shining silver chain with a pale green quartz pendant. The chain was dainty, thin and beveled so much so that it had a mirrored effect, and the pendant was edged in silver and glinted. It was a truly lovely piece, and Hermione knew who it was from even without looking at the name on the box.

 

“That’s a Courtship piece. It means he’s claiming you as his intended. It’s part of the Pureblood Courtship Rites: that piece signifies his intent to marry you,” Anna whispered, her eyes on the pendant, which flashed in the fractured sunlight.

 

Hermione nodded and bent her head to put it on. It hung to lay between the valley of her breasts. She looked across the Great Hall to Slytherin table, where Draco sat with a slight smile on his smooth face. To his left, Blaise grinned and clapped him on the back, and Astoria Greengrass nodded her head as though saluting her for accepting the gift.

 

“You’re officially engaged to him now. You know that, right?” Anna asked, excitement in her voice.

 

Hermione tenderly stroked the pendant, which lay just over the thin yellow chiffon blouse she wore and nodded. “I do, yes.”

 

“What about Theo? Where is he?” Ginny asked and looked around the hall as though to pin Nott in his seat.

 

Just then, another owl swooped in and dropped a heavy stock letter into Hermione’s lap. It had the Nott seal on it, and she knew, without knowing how, that it contained ominous news. She tucked it away and vowed she would open it later when she had more privacy.

Hogsmeade Village, Fall Term 1999

 

It was mid-day and a cold breeze whipped through the village. It was almost winter, and Hogsmeade Village was celebrating the change in season.

 

Pine trees stood in various shop windows and bells were strung up with poinsettia everywhere. Groups of witches, huddled together for warmth, were looking at displays, and tiny crystal snowflakes were blowing in the breeze. Hermione rose one eyebrow at it all; it wasn’t even Halloween yet. But she guessed that Hogsmeade Village perhaps made more galleons for Yule vs. Halloween—or ‘Samhain’. The village simply sparkled, though, and it did put her in the mood for a mug of spiced cider or Butterbeer.

 

“Do you have the order form?”

 

She turned to Draco, who walked casually in turn beside her. He had his hands in his pockets casually, but he was so very handsome. He wore a light grey pea coat, a white cashmere scarf and short black dragonhide boots. He looked tousled, with his hair askew and his face flushed. His eyes themselves set him apart from others in the village. They weren’t grey or hazel but pools of molten silver—a trait that would have earned him a lucrative modeling career in the Muggle world. His cheeks were high and sharp, and his lips were full and sensual. She wondered in passing how they would feel against hers. If they’d taste like the cedar candles he burned in his room, or perhaps that Muggle Balzac coffee he drank pots of, or further still, the Star anise toothpaste he used—she saw him with a fresh tube of it last night.

 

“Hermione?” he asked with a smile as he turned to her.

 

“Sorry! Yes, I do!” she replied, embarrassed as she pulled out a square of parchment penned by the Headmistress.

 

They were here on a missive from Headmistress Mcgonagall, but she knew Draco also wanted this to act as their first date. She did too, and purposely wore her long navy peacoat—one she bought in Paris last summer, a pale blue beret, and fur-lined gloves. She also wore navy dragonhide boots which sported a sturdy heel and gave her height so that Draco didn’t tower over her as much. He really was quite tall, but was also rangy and muscular. She knew she would be attracted to him like this, and not just because of his square jaw. He was brilliant and got O’s in every class he took, except Divination--which was mandatory to qualify for the entrance exam to St. Mungo’s. In fact, Anna told her Professor Vector had asked him to tutor for Arithmancy. _Off track Hermione, you’re getting off track!_

 

“Here we are.” Draco smiled, pulling open the door to The Three Broomsticks. It was crowded with students, all piled around tables with orders ranging from Meade, Giggle Water, Port and Butterbeer. Although she wasn’t concerned, nor did she care about underage drinking in this instance. Her eyes and brain were too focused on Draco’s arse as she followed him in. She blinked once when a voluptuous witch came into her field of vision, making Draco turn amused eyes at her. The witch was carrying a tray with pitchers of frothy lager, and lifted it higher to beam at her.

  


“Well, if it isn’t our beloved war hero! How can we be of service, love?” the witch crooned to Hermione.  Hermione gaped at the witch—she never knew how to react when people addressed her like that. But she squinted at the witch when her eyes slid over to Draco and harden. Draco stiffened beside her instantly, and lifted his wrist to examine his watch while the witch glared at him. Hermione defiantly grabbed his wrist to slide her hand into his and made to send her own glare at the witch when she felt it. The moment her hand made contact with Draco’s, she felt an electric current zip through her.

It wasn’t the kind of current that charred; it was the kind that gently simmered—it was a flash and burn sensation. _Dear Merlin_.

  
It was too early, on all accounts, to address this reaction, so she let it be but kept his hand in hers. Gathering her wits, she glared up at the witch as if daring the crone to voice or show her distaste towards Draco again.

 

“I have a note from the Headmistress,” she drawled, ignoring the crone’s initial greeting and tossing her hair. She then looked around the pub, schooling her features into an expression similar to the one the witch had directed at Draco. “I’d also like a pitcher of Butterbeer. We’ll be sitting over there,” she pointed to a now vacant love-seat near the windows.

 

Draco gaped at her as she pulled him over and sat across from him to glower at the witch. “What a cow! Can you believe the nerve of that woman! Sneering at you like some prissy do-gooder--”

 

He took her hand in his, and she immediately stopped talking, feeling that current again. She took a moment to control her breathing.

 

“Honestly, it’s alright. I’m used to people like that. It doesn’t bother me in the slightest, but I do appreciate your righteous indignation on my part.”

 

Hermione softened and squeezed his hands in hers, relishing his touch, then let go when she noticed a few students staring and whispering. Draco recaptured her hand in his and shushed her protest. “No, it's ok. Let them talk. That necklace you’re wearing is evidence enough of my intentions. Strough and McKenna may be half-bloods but even they know what it symbolizes.”

 

Hermione gently lifted the necklace he gave her and watched the winter sunlight play through the pale green quartz pendant. She flicked her eyes up to him to ask, “do your parents know you’ve given me this?”

 

He smiled at her. Yes, his parents knew and were relieved to hear that the witch requested to follow the Pureblood Rites of Courting. His mother in particular was very relieved. He knew, through correspondence with his father, that his mother hadn't been sleeping well. Years prior, she experienced difficulty conceiving Draco. From what he knew, the Malfoys notoriously only ever procured exactly one male heir. He didn’t know if it was due to a lack of trying for more heirs, but he did know his mother yearned for more children. His grandmother, Clarissa Greengrass, wanted more children, too, but his grandfather Abraxas had stopped visiting her bedchambers after their son was born. It was for that reason that Narcissa feared for Draco, and Hermione in turn. They had six years, give or take, to produce not just one, but five children—all sons—and so Narcissa was a bit relieved that at least Hermione was willingly courting him. So yes, his parents not only knew but approved.

 

“Yes, my mother actually sent that. It belonged to my great-grandmother Livia Flint. The Flints once lived off the coast of Ireland. Clare, I think. It was said that Livia loved to collect sea glass and favoured that exact shade of green. My great-grandfather had it commissioned for her and gave it to her on their wedding night.”

 

Hermione smiled and looked down at the pendant again. She liked green, too, but, if she were honest, it wasn't what she would’ve chosen.

 

As if he performed Legilimency on her, he smiled and asked, “But that's not your choice of colour or stone is it? What would your stone of choice be?”

 

She considered his question and knew immediately what her answer would be. When she was a child, she loved to watch her mother primp before a society event. Helen had an ornate silver box filled with jewelry, necklaces, pendants and earrings. Hermione admired all of them, but she loved the Tanzanite drop earrings she wore the most. They were beautiful. She remembered her father, Richard, giving them to her mother for a special occasion. He had them flown in from Dubai because they matched the exact shade of her mother's eyes. Helen was a beautiful woman, clear ivory skin, clouds of jet-black hair and piercing violet eyes that Hermione envied. Hermione inherited her father's bright honey-brown eyes, a trait she knew that came from his Spanish heritage. She leaned forward and smiled as she recounted the story to him.

 

“Tanzanites? Those violet-coloured stones? I know the ones,” he mused to himself.

 

Just then, a waitress placed two cups and a pitcher of Butterbeer in front of them, and Draco reached for the pitcher and poured each of them a glass. “What was she like, your mother?“

 

“Lovely. She`s an artist; she has her own studio in Sydney and is wildly famous—at least to my perception of famous. She’s beautiful and charming and has the biggest heart. My father is lucky to have her. I miss her,“ she replied absently, then turned to the window.

 

He gave her a couple of minutes before speaking up again, casually, lightly. “It sounds like you had a charmed childhood. Did you have any hobbies?”

 

“Painting. My mother taught me how. My father wanted to hire an instructor to teach me, but my mother shot that down—she wanted to teach me herself. She`s quite accomplished. I believe some of her paintings are displayed at Anjou Manor.”

 

She watched him sit back, and search her face. She knew what he was thinking. She had a privileged childhood, very reminiscent

 

He had his answer from earlier. Hermione Granger may have grown up as a muggle, but she was just as refined as any pureblood girl he’d ever met. The only way in which she was different was that she was soulful, and genuine. They continued talking into the evening, their missive for the Headmistress handed over. They ordered two more pitchers of steaming Butterbeer and even shared a bowl of tomato oregano soup. Ever so often, one of them would take the others hand, just to hold and experience that light current again--each of them aware that it belied a chemical attraction.

 

Head Boy Quarters, Fall 1999

 

He stood over a bubbling potion when Hermione opened his room door. It had been three weeks since their first date and he still hadn't kissed her yet. They'd been on a couple more dates, and their relationship was progressing at a steady beat. They were physically affectionate with each other, via hugs and holding hands. But no kissing, not yet. She knew he wanted to savour these moments they had together, these quiet gentle moments of courtship. She also knew that as soon as they got engaged, things would progress at a faster clip, but she yearned for just an ember of that.

 

She almost bloody jumped his pants last Friday during their study session.

_Head Girl Quarters, Fall 1999-One Week Ago_

 

_She sat cross legged on the white fur throw she had Tinzy bring over. The throw was cozy and plush and smelled faintly of Colubrine. Three books were spread open in front of her, as well as a pile of quills, pots of ink and a very handsome Draco Malfoy. He was flat on his stomach beside her, scribbling away on his scroll of parchment._

 

_“Did you want some hot tea?“ she asked politely, trying to make her voice sound as normal as possible. For the past hour they'd been working, and she had gotten little to nothing accomplished, aside from the opening paragraph. She was too busy fantasizing about Draco snogging her. She was obsessing, and rightly so—the man had very sensual lips, full and sculpted and soft looking._

 

_It had been a few weeks since Theo left, and she did feel guilty for not properly mourning their relationship, but it hadn’t really been a genuine one to begin with. He might have been a treat to have on occasion, but, in comparison, Draco was a bloody French Macaroon. He was gorgeous, especially now in that blue cable-knit sweater and those Muggle jeans that hugged his arse. She may be Hermione Granger, war heroine, but she was also a witch who hadn't had a proper shag in weeks. A witch who was immensely attracted to the wizard laid out beside her, who seemed to be more interested in his essay than her. She had prepped for this evening when he sent a note earlier about wanting to study. She wore a white button-down henley shirt and pale pink skinny jeans. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a sassy, curly ponytail and she had on red lipgloss. She even unbuttoned the top three buttons on her shirt so that an inch of the lacy ecru bra she wore peeped out. But evidently, Draco Malfoy found Arithmancy more interesting._

 

 _He looked up at her and laughed before shaking his head. “No distractions! This essay is due next Monday. I came over to make sure you finished._ “

 

_Blowing out a breath she smiled and nodded, then rolled her shoulders to set to it. However it seemed that got his attention, as he sat up and moved behind her._

 

 _She hoped she looked baffled as opposed to turned on when his hands slid over her shoulders to rub and knead away her tension, but she practically moaned when he whispered,_ “ _Maybe this will help.”_

 

_When he moved away after a few minutes to return his attention to his essay, she blew out another breath. Dear Merlin, she would take all the help he could give her._

 

As she stepped into his room, she noticed his attention never wavered from the miniature copper cauldron. He added sprigs of lavender to the mixture and stirred it counter-clockwise under a spill of moonlight. She watched as he poured the contents of a vial labelled _Unicorn Tears_ into the cauldron and observed the silver fumes that rose from its surface. He backed away and gently placed a glass dome over it, she imagined, to set it.

 

He set down his potion instruments—a ladle, various vials, and a muggle thermometer—to turn to her with a smile. Over the past few weeks they’d been spending more and more time together, getting to know each other.They each made a habit recently of greeting each other in their individual rooms. Just last week he visited her in her room to go over an assignment with her. When she visited him a few days ago just for company, they simply sat around reading. They both did this to familiarize themselves with each others company, without actually confirming the fact. It seemed to be working; he didn’t seem as scrupulously polite and skittish towards her anymore.  Now he was relaxed and even flirtatious, unless she was reading him all wrong. He had to have known he had an effect on her, as she knew she had a bit of one on him. When she had entered his room,she noticed the color rise to his cheeks and saw the awareness snap into his eyes. She wasn’t daft like Parvati Patil who used to discuss dating strategy with Lavender Brown a few years back. She knew when a wizard was interested, and Draco Malfoy was definitely interested. But her arrogance fizzled out when he turned his lazy smile on her.

 

“Finally finished that essay, have you?” he asked and sat down on his bed with a sigh.

 

She moved to sit a few inches away from him nonchalantly, knees bent beneath her as she pulled out a letter and held it out to him.

 

She watched his face change as his eyes flew over Thoros Nott’s cursive script. She knew he knew that Thoros Nott was familiar with her. He knew the extent of her relationship with Theo—that conversation had them both blushing profusely. So he shouldn’t be surprised that Nott Sr. had written her. On the contrary, he had horror and shock written all over his face.

 

He set the letter down on the bed and fell backwards scrubbing his hands over his face. “I knew he would try to do this.”

 

“Try being the operative word. I mean, I did, too, but I didn't know he would go to these lengths. Why Beijing of all places? Why not Greece? Blood Magic was practised in Mycenae up until the 1930s. But, on all accounts, a pact hasn’t ever been unforged. He must have known that through deductive research, and he knew our relationship wasn’t going anywhere. I didn’t have anything left to offer him,“ Hermione mused, her forehead crinkled. While she didn’t wish any ill on Theo, she wondered about his daft actions. The Slytherin should have known what he was tampering with.

 

Draco peered at her and said, “Any wizard would have tried to parry for your favour. You're certainly a catch, Hermione Granger.“

 

She blushed at that and took his hand in hers to squeeze, although she briefly closed her eyes at the physical reaction. “Can you help him?“

 

She watched his face and noted the thoughtful expression. To her knowledge, curses behaved the same as Muggle and magical diseases. They weren`t indestructible and always had a fault that would give way to a cure or antidote. It would take a lot of work on his part, and he would be dabbling in Dark Magic to do it. She hoped he wouldn’t meet the same fate as Theo, but she also knew he wouldn’t let his friend suffer.

 

“I`ll try, but I might need to tap a few sources to help me figure out how to revive him. I don't exactly have my Healership yet, but yes, I can help him if it makes you feel better.”

 

She hesitated, but unable to resist, she leaned down to whisper, “It does, yes. I hope I can return the favour.” She was going to hell for using that line, especially after talking about Theo, but Merlin, it would be worth it.

 

He sat up a bit before cupping the back of her head to press his lips to hers. She moaned and moved flush against him. She knew this first kiss would be sweet, knew that his lips would taste the way they did. What she didn’t factor was how it would spark a fire in her. That electric current from earlier was now a raging inferno, and she wanted to burn with it. He ran his fingers through her hair and clutched her to him like a lifeline, evidently having experienced the same reaction.

 

“Of that I have no doubt.“ he breathed out, his eyes bright and skin flushed.

 

It was definitely worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Thankyou so much to Naarna & Chanda Williams for reviewing this fic*


	9. Yuletide

_The Hogwarts Express, Yule 1999_

 

 _“After the war my father spent a lot of time in St.Mungo’s. He needed intensive therapy, and required specialized Healers to work with him--which meant he was away from home for long periods. It was especially difficult for my mother, she wasn't used to having so much time on her hands and I wasn't there to help her cope--I was in America at the time with Rolf._ _I needed to get away from England, just as I imagine most did. When I got back, I discovered my mother had made amends with my Aunt Andromeda.” Draco said mildly, turning his head toward the window. She had her head pillowed on his lap while he spoke, one of his hands clasped tightly in her own._

 

_“Why America? Who’s Rolf?”_

 

_“Rolf Scamander-you may recognize his last name, his grandfather was the author of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. He’s my friend, I met him in New York years ago. He graduated from Ilvermorny a couple months ago, so I went for his convocation--it’s an American thing. I was in Argentina with him this past summer. Great bloke, he has aims to become a Healer too.”_

  _She nodded then asked, “ so, you’ve never met Andromeda before?”_

  _“No. My mother hadn't been in contact with her for decades. But when I got back to Malfoy Manor, she was there having tea and bloody crumpets. I was baffled, but my mother asked me to sit down and mind my manners. She looks exactly like Aunt Bella Hermione, the same black hair, the same sharp features that denote Black ancestry. But, she wasn't cruel like Aunt Bella was. She had a daughter, I knew of her, her name was Nymphadora Tonks. She had a son before she died, Teddy. She was married to Remus Lupin, I'm sure you know who that is but I have never met him. They both died, and her husband, my Uncle Ted, died too. I guess they bonded over their shared loss. Mother asked me to start visiting her with her, because she was lonely, you know? I even brewed her some Dreamless Sleep, because she said she wasn't sleeping.”_

  _Hermione nodded again and mentally shivered. Dreamless Sleep was a very dangerous potion to take due to its addictive properties. Healers only prescribed it to patients under duress, or dire circumstances. Andromeda must’ve merited a prescription, or Draco wouldn’t have been able to access the ingredients needed for the draught. Unless, he had Essence of Nightshade growing somewhere. But you needed a special license from the Ministry of Magic to grow it. It was fortunate though, usually Dreamless Sleep came at a steep price from reputable potion stores. Knowing Draco, he probably didn’t take a Knut from her._

  _“She must’ve been very gracious, that was a kind gesture.”_

  _“She was, so much so that she gave me her late husband's most prized possessions: sports cars. Apparently Ted Tonks collected them, even had his own garage in London. Hermione , if I had known Muggles had those kinds of methods of transportation I would've come around years ago. He has all sorts, but my favourite is the Lamborghini Huracan--it’s a really nice car. I obviously wanted to see how it operated but I couldn't do it in robes. Aunt Andromeda just showed up one day at the Manor with a shopping sack of Muggle denim jeans, and some jumpers.” He grinned down at her when she started laughing. Of course Draco Malfoy would be inducted into the Muggle world via flashy sports cars._

_The train moved steadily, it was snowing and a few star had begun to twinkle into view. She would thank Andromeda the next time she saw her,  and she now had a newfound respect for Narcissa Malfoy._

_“Will she be there tonight, your aunt?”_

  _“There will be a lot of people there tonight Hermione. You might be surprised by some faces, but they_ ’ve all come to see us  _.”_

* * *

 

Malfoy Manor, Yule 1999

The lights from Malfoy Manor glittered in the distance. Hermione’s previous memory of it had been extracted into a vial and tossed into the lake outside Anjou Manor. She had done this with other memories as well. She was done waking up shaking with tremors and slick with sweat. Last summer, when she discovered she was an Anjou, she wanted to be and feel anew—without the help of Invigoration Draughts.

With fresh eyes, she took in the pale green marble stone, the many windows, and the the large oak doors. A fountain made entirely of crystal however, was the crown of it all. The Manor was lovely, but she couldn’t help but stare at the green dome that connected to it. She knew what it was without hesitation. It was a greenhouse, a large gilded one that most likely housed magical flora and fauna. She also guessed that Draco’s mother probably tended to the flowers herself. Draco recently told her that Narcissa had turned to her flowers after the last Wizarding War, and, just from looking at the greenhouse, Hermione thought Narcissa did a wonderful job.

Even though it was winter, Malfoy Manor sparkled with its silver painted shutters and climbing trellis of winter roses. Peacocks were even gathered at the gate, peering through the wrought iron.

She sat riveted by all of it beside Draco in his Aston Martin -- one of his newer flashy Muggle cars he navigated smoothly through the gates. At first she was puzzled by the logistics of how he'd drive the car to Malfoy Manor, but he explained that Wiltshire wasn't far and he knew how to navigate--he used a GPS spell, which was a variation of the Point Me charm. He also explained that Malfoy Manor had a paved driveway, which was installed recently. He seemed to have it all figured out, so she didn't question it, even though it was going against the grain not to. Her father once told her never to question a man about cars, and that advice always stuck with her. Somehow, he even concocted his own emission fluid for the cars his aunt bequeathed to him.She never would've pegged him for being a grease monkey, but he probably did it the way he did everything--with class, and efficiency.

“We’re almost there. Look, I realize all this might be overwhelming, so let me help you breathe easier,” he offered, pulling up in front of the manor.

She turned to look at him. “How will you do that?”

 

Draco chuckled before shaking his head at her. “By telling you that all those people arriving tonight are just pieces on a checkerboard. My parents have the game rigged. All you need to do is put on a pretty dress.”

 

She pursed her lips at him then grew worried. “Will you have to leave to check on Theo?”

 

He shrugged then and got out of the car, throwing his keys to a tiny house elf who caught them expertly. “I don’t think that will be necessary, unless one of the Nott house elves alerts me. I was with him all last night, and his condition is stable. I’m still waiting on Rolf to finish his internship in Los Angeles, America.” Rolf Scamander, as it turned out, was also a dab hand in potions, and excelled at it when he attended Ilvermorny. Draco said that Rolf had already written back,  agreeing to help with reviving Theo.

 

She nodded and turned to follow him in before she saw Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy standing at the door.

 

Narcissa was a very beautiful woman. Her hair was done up in elaborate finger curls and her gown glowed like candlelight. Lucious was just as striking, with his long straight white-blond hair and wide grey eyes. He also wore a black tuxedo—it seemed Draco had rubbed off on him.

 

“Hermione, welcome to our home. Tippy will take all your things to Draco’s wing of the Manor. I also had my designer create a dress for you, which I hung up in your room beside Draco’s dress robes I selected for the festivities tonight.” At this, Narcissa’s eyes sparkled at her and Draco. It reminded her greatly of Molly Weasley when she used to look at Harry and Ginny were concerned. The Weasley matriarch was determined to make a match between her daughter and Harry, but that didn’t exactly pan out.

 

She merely smiled and replied, “Thank you Mrs. Malfoy. I’m sure it’s beautiful.”

 

Draco stepped forward to kiss his mother softly on the cheek before clasping his father’s hand, who moved to whisper to his son, “This time next year I hope to have a grandson. Have you spoken to her about the Fertilitas Potion you've been brewing?”

 

Draco discretely shook his head and turned to Hermione, who was peering through the greenhouse windows into his mother's garden. “I'm sure my wife would love to show you, Miss Anjou,” Lucius offered, following Draco’s train of thought.

 

Hermione’s face lit up before she cleared her throat to say, “If you don't mind, Mr Malfoy, it's Granger. It's silly to change my name now only to change it again in spring.”

 

Narcissa laughed before shaking a finger at her husband. “She's got you there, Lucius. Well, Miss Granger, would you care for a tour before you and Draco have to get ready for Yule?”

 

Hermione nodded and followed Narcissa into the greenhouse.

 

Lucius Malfoy’s Study, Yule

Lucius turned back to his son and clapped his shoulder, guiding him up to his study and shut the door quietly. Rounding on Draco, he repeated his question."Have you or have you not spoken to her about the potion?" he asked, repeating the question from before while rounding on his son.

“No, I haven't. I completed it last night, and it's ready, but I haven't spoken to her about it yet. This is still all new to her, Father. I have to give her time to come to terms with it. We've only begun seeing each other; we're Courting, as I told you and Mother a few weeks ago. It's not custom to take her to my bed so early. You know that.”

It wasn't. In Pureblood Courtship, the couple usually waited six months to a year after a proposal before becoming intimate. But Draco also knew he didn't have the luxury of explicitly complying to those terms. Hermione had to conceive as soon as possible, but he wasn't sure how to go about broaching that topic. She was definitely pleased to snog him. As soon as they boarded the Hogwarts Express, they drove each other wild in the official Head Compartment.He even managed to render her topless at one point, and she was too busy mesmerizing the contours of his lips. But snogging and shagging with the intent of reproducing were two very different things. He would have to talk to her about it as well as the potion--especially considering he planned on proposing tonight.

Abraxas Malfoy grumbled from his portrait. “You are being foolish yet again, boy. First with those rubbish Muggle cars and now with your future wife. Do you not understand what is at stake? The entire Malfoy line will die out if she does not conceive.”

“I'm sure Draco understands the gravity of the situation, Father,” Lucius said through gritted teeth, before turning to look at his son. “Draco, I don't understand why you haven't taken her to your bed. She must realize that your circumstances aren’t the norm regarding Pureblood Courting and it's damn preliminary guidelines. The sooner you give her sons, the sooner you can go back to going on picnics. Your mother hasn't slept well in months. She's even taken to looking at your baby portraits, for Morgana’s sake.”

Draco glowered at his father. “I won't push something on her that she isn’t comfortable with. I will discuss it with her after tonight. I intend to officially propose, and I don’t wish to be interrupted—I’ve got a few house-elves to help set it up.”

Abraxas turned to leave his portrait in disgust, muttering under his breath. “You've raised him to be too sentimental, Lucius. If I were in your shoes, boy, the witch would be heavy with her first babe by now.”

Once the frame was vacant, Lucius crossed the room to grip his son’s shoulders. “We’re just worried for you, Draco. You understand our urgency to see the girl pregnant. She's already agreed to fulfill her obligation to the Blood Magic. You, my son, have to do more than bind yourself to her. You have to do something that no Malfoy has done in decades. Your mother and I understand the curse on our bloodline doesn't affect you, but the blood pact is very specific in that you have to give Hermione five sons. You have a very limited window to do that before you both turn 25. It'll be hard on both of you, and it will certainly be frowned upon to bear children so quickly, but leave that to your mother to handle. She's an expert when it comes to the politics of pureblood society. But son, the sooner you talk to her about that potion, the better.”

 

_Head Dormitory, Fall Term_

_She carried her heavy leather satchel through the door, only to drop it when she heard the music. The rich long notes of cello echoed throughout the dorm, and she located the instrument propped up against a chair—played by magic. Her shoulders relaxed, and a smile blossomed on her face. She couldn't seem to relax today, despite anything. In fact, she spent most of it in the library trying to take her mind off today's date._

_It was quite late at night, so the dorms were pitch-black, save for the fireplace. She knew Draco was there,_ _and she spotted him coming down the steps towards her, one hand behind his back and a cup of tea in the other_ _. Flaring her nostrils, she smelled the jasmine tea before he placed a cup in her hands._

_“How did you know?” she asked him, looking from the cello to the tea._

  _In the light provided by the flames in the fireplace, she could see_ _his features, the delicacy of them when he replied, “The Weaslette told me you liked the cello. She said that you played when you were younger?”_

_She looked down into the teacup before lifting her head to answer. “My mother played. She was so beautiful when she did. She knew I loved it, so she gave me lessons. Every Sunday before church, we’d sit on the porch, and she’d teach me how to read sheet music.”_

  _He moved with her to sit on the large couch, where took her hand slowly, gently,in his, to say, “You must miss her.”_

  _“Everyday. But she’s happy. She’s always been an artist. Give her an instrument, and she’d play a sonata. Give her a paintbrush, and she’d paint an abstract. She has a gallery now—did I mention? It’s in Sydney, Australia… I visited the gallery when I went there to restore her memories. Her paintings are so soulful. Every piece is unique, breath-taking, and_ perfect _,” she emphasized, then brought the cup to her lips to sip the sweet liquid._

  _He looked at her in unease before he brought forward what he was holding behind his back. It was a framed canvas, one of wild sunflowers at the edge of a lake. The lake reflected the flowers, and the flowers seemed to pull towards the lake. The sunflowers were painted in bright oranges and yellows, but the lake was a quiet blue—it was a study in contrasts. At the edge of the canvas, in a lavender script, Helen Granger signed her name as Monika Wilkins._

 _At a loss for words, Hermione looked at Draco, who was still fidgeting slightly in his nervousness, but then cleared his throat._ _“ I ordered it. It came this morning, by post, and my mother owled it to me. I hope I didn’t cross a line of any sort. I just thought you would like to have it. A piece of her.”_

  _She just stared at him as her mental image of him began to break, shatter and reform._ How could she have missed this part? _Who was this boy? Why did he suddenly look so fragile?_ _Why was he suddenly so human?_

 _“Thank you, Draco,” she whispered finally,_ _and his relief was instantly visible as he stopped fidgeting, and his lips curled into a soft smile._

_“I just thought you should have it, that’s all—after all, it is her birthday,” he replied nonchalantly._

_Her heart constricted then._ Who was he, indeed?

* * *

 

Draco’s Bedroom, Yule

Hermione stood in front of a mirror fastening creamy pearls into her ears, her mind swirling with thoughts, memories. She’d been thinking a lot about that painting he gave her and how it opened her heart more to him. She began to take more of an interest in his personal life, than she already did. Not to say that she didn't before, considering they were ‘Courting,’ but the falseness of it due to them being bound together slipped away. In its place was a genuine sense of caring, especially considering he took the time to order that beautiful painting for her.

She had no idea how he tracked the painting down or purchased it, but she had an idea Andromeda had helped him. She began to notice the little things about him that made up his personality. Over the past few weeks, she’d grown to care for him. She felt almost tender toward him. She realized he had hopes and dreams, too and was being forced into this as much as she was. She got to know a different side of him and found that he wasn’t just a pureblood Slytherin but an intelligent, sensual man.

She had found him up late at night making healing salves for Madam Pomfrey, using ingredients he grew himself. Or how he tutored first year Slytherin students in remedial potions for Slughorn, not due to a punishment of any kind either. He took care of his things—he had a place for everything and made sure they gleamed when he was done using them. He had even started holding her hand outside their dormitory, much to Ginny and Anna’s delight. Blaise Zabini had even waggled his eyebrows whenever he saw them. Once, Zabini had even asked if he could be godfather to their first-born son, which made Draco blush and change the subject immediately.

He had a romantic soul and a quiet nature. He left clippings of moonflowers for her sometimes. Other times, he’d make her wonderful teas--one’s he said released tension and abated stress, but she knew that he knew she liked blueberry tea. It was as if she were learning who he was inside and out, and the attraction she initially felt all those weeks ago only deepened, bloomed.

He started spending hours alone in his room brewing a potion he was shirty about, coming up for air every so often to give her a massage or make her swoon in other ways.

He even presented her with a beautiful Tanzanite encrusted hair comb one morning, which subsequently made her cry happy tears. It lay on her vanity with a long-stemmed red rose and a note attached when she found it. On a prior date to Hogsmeade Village, she had sent for a plum-coloured satin gown to wear to the Yule Ball, which was to take place on January 7th. His note requested she wear the comb, which was yet another Courting piece. It was crafted in rose gold and ever so dainty. She loved it, envisioning herself wearing it during the opening dance with him. She hoped she had enough Sleakeazy Hair Potion left for the Yule Ball—she’d used nearly all of it just now on her hair, and she hated going to the Witch Secret for it. She felt very pretty with her hair pinned to the side; she also wore a silver satin spangled gown. It was dainty and oh so alluring, she wondered how Narcissa knew her size, but then Draco must’ve relayed that information to his mother. She turned to look over at him; he had been quiet this whole time, and from her vantage point, he looked terribly tense. She left the mirror and her vanity behind to walk over to him.

He stood by his brass bedroom window sill, looking intently at something that stole her breath. An engagement ring rested in his palm, stunningly beautiful and featuring a large morganite stone. She looked at him and noted the worry there as well as trepidation. She knew instantly why he felt that. Their relationship was developing nicely, but it was nowhere near a place that involved an engagement ring. But she also knew this was coming. Their relationship wasn’t fated to be an organic one. His hand was forced in this, she knew, because they needed to start trying for children as soon as possible. She did the math, and, unless she conceived multiple children per birth, she would be pregnant for the next 5 years. Draco informed her, when she asked about Pureblood Courting in relation to being intimate, that there were no rules there, but it was more acceptable to be pregnant and expecting after an engagement was officially announced.

He turned his head to her, and she smiled at him, trying to convey that she knew what he intended to do. Nodding quickly, he took a deep breath.“This has been in the Malfoy vaults for generations, to be given to the Anjou witch.”

She studied it and thought it shined more brightly than the moon. “It’s absolutely lovely.”

Suddenly a thousand candles flared to life,  joining their light with the moon and floating around them as he turned to her. “Will you take this ring as a symbol of my yearning for you? Will you bind yourself to me, body and soul, at Beltane and become mother to my children?” 

Moving to him she nodded, and he gently slid the ring onto her finger. She looked at it and said sincerely, “I will.”

“I’m sorry that this is forced, but I want you to know I’ll cherish you and bring you happiness.  I want what my parents have, and I want our children to feel as I felt,” he said, stroking his knuckles against her cheeks.

Taking his hand in hers, she looked up to smile warmly at him. “It appears like they love you a great deal.”

She watched him smile at her. She knew, from reading the Daily Prophet, that things had changed for his family. They had paid reparations for their part in the war, but those funds were directed to various charities benefiting orphans. She knew his mother had taken up gardening--which was a very therapeutic hobby. She also read that his father opened up an office in Muggle London, for Malfoy Enterprises. She didn’t know exactly what his father did, but she knew it had something to do with stocks.But as much as Narcissa might've loved her flowers, and Lucious his work it was Draco they cared for the most--she knew, just from the way they embraced him and welcomed her, despite everything, into their family. 

“They're worried about you, but they don't have to be. I'll take as many potions as you can brew,” she whispered and watched his eyes widen. She wasn’t dimwitted. She knew the potion he’d been brewing recently was for fertility. She wasn’t a potioneer, but she knew what moonflowers and rosehips were used for. She leaned into him and continued, “I won't let you die, Draco.”

“Come on. I think there’s someone waiting for you downstairs,” he murmured, still stroking her cheek.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Thankyou so much to lovely Naarna & Chanda Williams for reviewing this fic*


	10. Ambient & Ornate

Malfoy Ballroom, Yule

 

If Hermione could describe the ballroom using only two words, they'd be ambient and ornate. Where Anjou Manor was all pale blue marble and copper fixtures, Malfoy Manor was gleaming mahogany and sterling silver accents. The flooring was made entirely of a glittering black marble that seemed to emanate heat. The doors were made of solid crystal and quartz, and the two chandeliers were studded in glinting emeralds and black diamonds. The room was large and furnished with long couches _—_ all smooth black leather with silver tasseled throws. There were thin trays of flashing silver sailing through the air, offering an array of metallic snifters of firewhiskey. Long silver rugs were spread across the floor, and the fires that roared were green in flame. Tiny flickering lights moved through the air while emerald candles burned on mahogany coffee tables. Large silver-rimmed windows made up the walls of the ballroom, and a whimsy of starlight danced through the air. Slytherin House reigned and flourished here, evidently.

 

Various witches and wizards mingled together, all dressed in their finest _—_ furs, jewels and evening gowns. Oliver Wood was leaning against the glass-backed bar, clutching Anna Avery’s hand. He smiled companionably at Hermione then whispered in Anna’s ear, who turned to wink at Hermione when she passed by. Pansy was there, too, with Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis. They were all wearing impossibly tight looking dress robes, extremely high heels and too much make-up. Hermione mused that some things were universal; magical or not, all girls were the same when it came to vying for a suitor. They all inclined their heads as she passed, which made her blood boil.

She knew that if news came out that it was all a mistake and she wasn’t an Anjou, they’d all sooner spit at her.

 

Blaise was there, too, flirting with one of her girl friends, Samantha Dearborn _—_ a vivacious redhead who played for the Holyhead Harpies. A member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, she was currently finishing up her last year at Beauxbatons. Hermione met her in Caille the previous summer and they quickly became fast friends.

 

In fact, most of her girlfriends were here, except Ginny, who was stuck at the Burrow where Molly was currently hosting Yule herself. Ginny sent her apologies in the form of a note which also contained pleas for Hermione to owl her immediately should there be any ‘developments.’ Hermione had been keeping Anna and Ginny abreast of all her dates with Draco, and Ginny approved wholeheartedly of Draco’s influence on Hermione. It wasn’t his influence so much as the effect he had on her. She wanted nothing more than to shag him senseless. Fortunately enough, she had an inkling she would have ample opportunity after tonight _—_ they were officially engaged now.

 

Draco, ignorant to her line of thinking, steered her towards a cluster of witches that included Andromeda Black—beautiful in plum coloured robes. Hermione released Draco’s hand to move towards the widow and took her hands in hers.

 

“You look beautiful tonight, Hermione, and you do as well, handsome nephew. I was so happy to be able to attend _—_ I have Kreacher watching Teddy for the evening. That house elf definitely changed his tune. Narcissa said tonight we’ll be celebrating something wonderful,” she mused, her dark eyes moving between Hermione and Draco.

 

Draco bowed his head to smile at his aunt. “Thank you, Aunt Andromeda. I’m glad Mother invited you and even more so that you accepted. We do have news, which we’ll share with everyone at Yule. Please excuse us.”

 

Hermione smiled before she took his hand to continue greeting guests. She knew to nod her head and smile every few moments, as per Draco’s earlier instruction. She understood Pureblood society to be exactly like the Muggle upper-class, having grown up around it _—_ her father was a rather prominent dental hygienist, so she knew how to conduct herself. It usually entailed nodding and smiling, and anything more than a handshake was frowned upon. As a young girl, her mother often kept her in check. Helen Granger must have also grown up around this ilk, not the same ones of course, but similar. She wondered absently if Squibs had functions like this, too. They certainly made up a large faction of Wizarding England.

 

She came out of her thoughts suddenly to focus on a young man standing by the fireplace wearing dragonhide boots and a costly looking set of robes.His jet black hair stood on end, and his bright green eyes lit up at her when she pivoted forward to turn him around.

 

Harry Potter hugged her tightly, his nose in her hair, and breathed in the roses and oranges that was all Hermione. He rested his cheek against her smooth forehead and gripped her like she would slip away and curse his name for disappearing the way he did. He wouldn’t blame her, but Merlin, did he miss her.

 

When she began to shake against him, he reached a hand up to catch the tear that fell, and when she pulled him even tighter, he sagged in relief. She pulled away to hold him at arm's length and smiled at him. He searched her face and saw happiness there, a happiness and kind of awe that melted his heart. She evidently wasn’t angry. In fact, she was vibrating with emotion as Draco Malfoy stood off to the side. She then pulled him back to her, crushing him, and she laughed joyously.

 

“‘Mione, you’re crushing me. Let a wizard breathe. Is she always like this, Malfoy?” he teased, waggling his eyebrows at Draco.

 

Hermione stilled to look up at him to ask in a small voice, “You know? About everything?”

 

Harry shrugged, “Sometimes a change can be a good thing. It was good of you to send me an invite, mate,” he said, turning to Draco.

 

Face streaming with happy tears Hermione turned to wrap her arms around Draco. “Thank you,” she breathed in his ear. “So, so much.”

 

“Happy Christmas, Hermione,” Draco murmured back with a squeeze.

 

“Come on, ‘Mione, I thought you didn’t believe in public displays of affection.” Harry laughed.

 

Turning back to him, she laughed while wiping the tears from her face. “Oh Harry I thought I’d never see you again. What have you been doing all this time? You’ve changed so much!”

 

He had changed. Gone was the boy in the scruffy robes, with his glasses askew and his Weasley jumpers. He now stood in long tailored robes and a cashmere Gryffindor scarf; he exuded confidence in waves.

 

He scratched his head and tried not to grin. “I’d say you take the cake in that department, ‘Mione. What happened to the witch who always insisted flats were perfectly functional everyday shoes?”

 

She smacked his shoulder. “They are! That doesn't mean I don't appreciate heels.”

 

Just then, a petite witch approached them _—_ a beauty dressed in amethyst silk robes, with wavy blue-black hair and bright violet eyes. Harry immediately turned his attention to her and pulled her forward.

 

“‘Mione, Draco, I'd like you to meet my fiancé, Azalea Holland.” Harry smiled.

 

Azalea moved to Hermione to gently clasp her hand. “It's so lovely to finally meet you, Hermione. Harry's description of you doesn't do you justice. That gown is a work of art; you must be making someone here very happy,” Azalea trilled in the soft staccato tones of New Zealand.

 

Hermione blushed and smiled at Draco, who grinned and said, “Oh, she could be wearing a sack, and I'd still be happy. It's nice to meet you Azalea, my name is Draco---I'm Hermione’s fiancé.”

 

Harry laughed and said, “You didn't mention that, mate! Congratulations, ‘Mione! I didn't know things were this serious.”

 

Hermione giggled to reply, “We’re both keen on starting a family soon. I've always wanted to be a mother; you know that, Harry.”

 

Draco turned impressed eyes on her. He knew she was bright, but he didn’t realize how innately Slytherin she could be about it.

 

Hermione turned excited eyes onto the couple to say, “So tell me how you met!”

 

Azalea smiled demurely. “We met on the banks of Lake Taupo, New Zealand. I lead yoga retreats there, and Harry was one of my students. He was always at the front of the class,” she teased, grinning at Harry, who beamed back. “He finally asked me out on a proper date after days of taunting me with those green eyes of his, and we went flying. It was lovely, exhilarating really _—_ but romantic. We watched the sunset. We began seeing each other after the retreat. I have a summer home in Kerikeri, and he proposed to me there. It was beautiful, birds, ocean and stars _—_ what more could a witch ask for? But enough about me! Are you really going to start a family soon?”

Harry just smirked at Hermione and cut in. “I hope you realize I fully expect to be godfather. But now that you mention it, Azalea and I have been thinking along those lines too.”

 

Hermione all but vibrated as she asked, “Does that mean you'll come back to England?”

 

Azalea just beamed at Hermione and replied, “Yes. I just have to finish up my magical law certificate! Then Harry and I plan to move closer to Wiltshire, specifically to Potter Manor.”

 

Interest flared in Draco’s eyes as he looked at Harry. “Mind if I come by? There’s a crop of irish moss there I’d like to sample.”

 

Harry quirked an eyebrow at Hermione, who just looked at Draco with a spark of desire in her eyes. Draco caught the look and sent one back of his own, making Azalea giggle into her hands. Hermione cleared her throat and turned back to Harry. “Will you be taking your ancestral seat on the Wizengamot?”

 

“Azalea will be stepping in to take the ancestral Potter seat after our wedding. And before you ask, ‘Mione, we haven't set a date yet. However, I have no taste for politics, so I'm just going to try for the Puddlemere Reserves. But Draco, come by any time. I didn’t know you were into slime.”

 

“He’s going to be a Healer, “ Hermione replied, looking at Draco with a mixture of pride and awe. “He sources his own ingredients for all his potions.”

 

“That’s lovely to hear! I reckon potioneers are brilliant,” Azalea said, smiling at Draco.

 

Hermione beamed and took Azalea’s hands.“I think we're going to be great friends.”

 

They continued talking and were served various plates of food until the clock struck midnight.  When Draco got a signal from his father, he said, “Hermione, I believe were needed at the centre of the ballroom. Harry, Azalea, you're welcome to join us.”

 

They then moved together towards Narcissa and Lucius, who raised his hand for silence and pointed his wand to his throat to boom, “Dear friends. Thank you for joining us on this momentous occasion. Yule is dear to all of us as it symbolizes the new year, new life and new unions. My wife and I chose this occasion to announce the engagement of our son Draco to Hermione of House Anjou. They’re both finishing their last year at Hogwarts as Head Boy and Girl. Please lift your glasses in toast to them and their journey into matrimony.”

 

Waving his wand, a Yule log was lowered into the fireplace. Twelve giant pine trees appeared all across the ballroom, all lit up with tiny fairies. Everyone began clapping at once, hoisting up their flutes, snifters and goblets.

 

Narcissa came over to kiss Hermione lightly on each cheek, then took her hand to inspect the engagement ring. “This ring was blessed by Luisa Malfoy, to ensure fertility and safety during childbirth. It's been in the Malfoy vaults for a century. I've only heard legend of it, but it's very beautiful and suits you. If I were you, dear Hermione, I wouldn't ever take it off.”

 

Hermione looked up into Narcissa's eyes and saw neither malice nor treat. Instead, she saw fear there, mixed with happiness. Taking her hand, she spoke to the Malfoy matriarch. “I won't let any harm come to him, Mrs. Malfoy.”

 

With a poignant look, Narcissa left Hermione, who turned and reached determinedly for Draco’s hand.

 

“I'm feeling tired. Shall we go to your room?” she asked him. A deep flush swept up her face, and Draco caught on instantly. Moving his eyes from  her breasts to her abdomen, he seemed to just vibrate with need.

 

“We’ll see you later, Hermione, Draco. Congratulations, again! We can’t wait to catch up more!” Azalea smiled looking knowingly at Draco, who couldn’t seem to take his eyes off his fiancée.

 

“We’ll be waiting for our wedding invitation! Anyways, have a good night, ‘Mione. Sleep well,” Harry said.

 

Hermione and Draco glided away, and Azalea turned to whisper laughingly in Harry’s ear, “I don’t think she’ll do a lot of sleeping tonight, sweetheart.”

 

Harry just cringed and ran his fingers through his hair as he watched Malfoy pull his best friend through the crowd.

 

Draco’s Bedroom, Yule

 

As soon as she stepped into his bedroom, her gown shimmered away and she was left only in candlelight. Draco just drank her in. He’d never found her more appealing than he did then. The knowledge that he was going to be with her, in her, with the intent of having a son stirred his blood. When he made his robes vanish, he moved to her.

 

“Should I take the potion first?” she asked him, reaching for him and staring up into eyes that were now dilated and purely silver.

 

Nodding, he summoned a tiny vial of glowing white liquid from his trunk. Handing it to her, he watched her unstopper it and drain it.

 

“It tastes like flowers,” she breathed with a smile. It did; he brewed it with rosehips, honeysuckle and mint—flavours he knew she favoured. It masked the only ingredients, which weren’t as floral, but extremely potent in their purpose.

 

Nodding, he smoothed his hand through her hair and it fell in soft waves around her face. He then took her hands and led her over to his canopy bed, where brass lanterns hung on either side. All around the room wood candles burned in glass jars. He wanted it to be perfect, he wanted to make her feel at ease. It appeared to be working as she relaxed into his touch and inhaled the woodsy scents from the candles.

 

When he laid her delicately on his sheets, he trailed his lips along the tops of her breasts and she arched up wantonly. He felt euphoric; she had the body he imagined she would have—all soft angel skin, angles and womanly dips.

 

He bent to whisper into her ears, “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou so much to Chanda Williams & Naarna!


	11. The Potion

Malfoy Greenhouse, Yule

 

Hermione sat in the sun in the Greenhouse—which had an entrance from Malfoy Manor—with a cup of Earl Grey. Everywhere she looked was verdant: lively greens with splashes of colour that bled from the flower petals. A soft rain was falling outside and she felt absolutely luxurious. Her skin was still warm and rosy from Draco’s touch, from his lips and his wonderfully long fingers. Their first round was wild, and inhibited--satisfying their baser urges, but their second was everything she imagined it would be.

At one point he combed his fingers through her curls while he held her to his chest. It hadn’t been shagging; she could never in her wildest dreams call what they did that. It was raw intimacy, in the purest sense of the notion. But just thinking of last night made her face flame. It was everything she expected it to be and more.

 

_Draco’s Bedroom,  Yule_

 

_As he moved in her, he cupped her face and kissed her softly on her lips, her throat and her collarbone. “You can move faster.”_

 

_“Why hurry? Do you know how long I've dreamt of tonight, Hermione? How long I've imagined what the slope of your breasts taste like or how your arse feels in my hands. I won't rush this time. I intend to learn every crevice, map every curve.”_

 

_The way he spoke was purely erotic in nature, but it was his tone more than the words that seduced her. So, obligingly, she stretched her arms over her head and moved with him silkily, fluidly until she felt her orgasm beginning to build._

 

_Gripping her hands in his, he gently took her lips and stroked her tongue with his. He slowed his pace even more, slipping out and sliding into her, agonizingly slow. When he slowly moved to take one taut engorged nipple into his mouth, she cried out._

 

_Her first orgasm was all-consuming, and she felt it from the points of her fingers to the tips of of her toes._

 

_On her second, she simply rode through it, panting as she sat astride him, his pale hands on her breasts and his teeth on her shoulder._

 

_He flipped her over to move sinuously over her, all-consuming in his path to her pleasure. When he suckled from her breast and kneaded her arse cheeks, she felt like a well-tuned musical instrument. She was a cello, and with his mouth and fingers, he made her body sing._

 

_On her third, she clutched his head to her breasts as shock waves of pleasure crashed through her. He then quickened his movements to finally spill his seed into her._

 

_Later, they both stood on his balcony, his arms around her, to gaze at the wonder of the morning stars. They didn’t speak nor they did feel the need to--they were simply content. When she yawned finally, her body spent and her mind drifting, Draco kissed her sweetly._

 

_“We should get you to bed or you’ll be tired in the morning. My mother’s planned a spectacle of a Yule lunch. But I know you by now; you’ll be up at 7 with a cup of that bergamot tea you favour,” he chuckled._

 

_She turned to follow him to bed, and when they slipped under the covers, he held her close. He turned her body over to the side and reached for the tiny blue bottle that Hermione's elf house provided._

 

_Kissing her hair, he began to comb it over with one hand while she shut her eyes, and the other applied the light floral tincture to her abdomen. His touches pleasurable and enticing, his movements quiet and sure._

 

_Her last waking thought was one of jubilation; somehow fate had granted her a perfect match._

 

“Hermione?”.

 

She opened her eyes to stare blearily at Narcissa, who carried a wooden tray. On it stood a glass of creamy goat's milk, slices of pear and plum, and a bowl of piping hot cereal sprinkled with pecans.

 

Narcissa smiled at the girl as she walked over to set the breakfast on the table. “Lucius and I decided to eat early, so we sent up breakfast up to you in bed. When the house elves discovered my son was still sleeping and you gone, I took the task upon myself to find you. I brought you what I used to eat when I was trying for a child. I’m not sure if you’ll like it or not, so please tell me if I can get you anything else.”

 

Hermione smiled and accepted the tray with a thank you before she continued to sip on the sweet milk.

 

“I hope your dreams were pleasant,” Narcissa murmured with a smile.

 

Blushing deeply, Hermione nodded. “They were. Thank you, Mrs.Malfoy.”

 

“Oh, dear, I'd love it if you could call me Narcissa. After all, you will be Mrs. Malfoy in a few months’ time. Now, I understand you only just got engaged, but I was wondering if you've given any thought to your wedding day. I could plan and tailor it to your wildest dreams, my girl, if you'll let me.” Narcissa smiled over her cup of tea.

 

Hermione thought to herself. Yes, she knew exactly what she wanted. She'd always known. She remember a few years ago when she sat with her own mother to plan this very event.

* * *

 

_Granger Cottage, Norfolk 1993_

 

_Blue birds hopped from one spot to the other as a thirteen-year-old Hermione followed their progress. Blue Lavender wafted towards her and she looked over her shoulder to watch her mother approach._

 

 _Helen Granger, n_ _é_ _e Anjou, had a smooth, lovely face, deep set blue eyes and madly curling black hair. She wore a blue frock covered in poppies, and a smile lit up her pretty face._

 

_“Hermione, what brings you out here so early? It's not even 7 in the morning, honey,” Helen admonished._

 

_Hermione smiled weakly at her mother in reply. “I had the dream again.”_

 

_Helen Granger looked at her daughter's glowing face. “The one where you get married? Did you see his face this time?”_

 

 _Shaking her head, Hermione simply looked at her hands as she responded. “No. I was walking to him, but he was standing under this briar of sorts. There were flowers, so many flowers that I couldn't even see his face. I was walking with one of my friends though_ — _you know Harry? He was walking with me down this beautiful aisle. The softest cello music was playing in the background. It was so achingly beautiful, mummy. I was wearing this frock, a really pale blue one with capped sleeves and an empire waist. It had silvery white lace panels, and it felt like water against my skin”._

 

Helen Granger smiled gently at Hermione. She knew that her grand-mère would be thrilled at this. Her daughter had magical blood in her veins; she was an Anjou witch and very likely just had a prophetic dream.

 

_“Do you think my wedding, whenever and wherever it'll be, will be beautiful?” Hermione asked._

 

_“It will be everything and more, my darling.”_

* * *

 

Hermione looked up at Narcissa and replied, “I want it to be outside, with flowers everywhere. I want to wear a blue wedding gown, and I want Harry to escort me down the aisle.”

 

Narcissa smiled and nodded. “So you shall have it. You seem like you're done there. Why don't you go see where Draco is?”

 

Nodding, Hermione got up and set the tray down on a glass table.

 

Moving through the Manor, her eyes trailed over various Malfoy portraits. All the painting occupants curtsied and smiled at her, each one of them austere looking and well-dressed. When she came to one of a beautiful blonde witch with pale blue eyes, she stopped. The witch was strikingly beautiful in a floor-length set of white robes. Her hair was woven neatly into a French braid. Her hands were folded over a book of sonnets in her lap. This portrait was clearly painted when she was younger, but Hermione knew she was looking at a previous Malfoy matriarch.

 

“I've heard rumour that an Anjou witch was finally born. My husband told me stories of your family: the Great Anjous of France, with their seers and druids. Your ancestress went to great lengths to ensure the latter would be born. Tell me, girl: what is your name?”

 

“I'm Hermione. I'm engaged to Draco,” Hermione replied.

 

Hermione stood still as the witch nodded; she felt like she was being x-rayed as those pale blue eyes flew over her. She wondered absently if this witch was at all related to Astoria Greengrass. They had the same wide eyes and sharp cheekbones--which also reminded her of the Cherokees Anna studied in Muggle Studies; she had helped her write that particularly gruesome essay.

 

“My name is Clarissa Malfoy, but I was a Beguesse before I married my handsome Abraxas. He would have thought you had a fair face. He would have definitely passed me over for you if you were alive when we were—despite your lineage.You have the look of your kin, save for your hair and those eyes of yours. I knew a few Anjous in my day, they were Squibs but they were still revered, lovely. I would’ve loved to have a daughter, but my Abraxas was adamant I only bear him a son. I loved Lucius, but I always wondered what a Malfoy daughter would look like. Tell me, fair Hermione, do you have any babes growing in your womb?”

 

Before Hermione could answer, a throat cleared behind her.

 

“Ah, Mother, so wonderful to see you this morning. Hello, Miss Granger, would you go wake Draco? We have an unexpected guest coming for lunch, and Draco’s attention is required,” Lucius instructed.

 

Face red, Hermione inclined her head to the portrait of Clarissa Malfoy and padded up the staircase to disappear into Draco’s wing of the manor.

 

Turning to his mother, Lucius scowled, “I understand your reasons for asking such a question, Mother, but the girl already realizes her role. She’s accepted the Blood Magic Pact, and Narcissa informed me she’s consented to a wedding by Beltane. She isn’t a fool. She knows very well that she’ll die should she object to this union in any way. She’s good for Draco, quick and clever and bright, but she’ll also keep him in check.”

 

Clarissa looked haughtily at her son. “A woman should always know her place above all else. Draco does not need reigning in. He’s a fine man with a sharp intellect and does not need a woman to censor him, despite how pleasing her face may be. She’s fair, but our ancestor Luisa wrote that Eliza was, too, in her time. It was said all the pureblood girls of her time were blonde-haired and blue-eyed. But Eliza Anjou had a grace and beauty that set her apart from the rest. She had ebony hair, so dark it glinted blue in the light and violet eyes—a trait, it was said, passed to her from her French ancestors. She passed those features on, but her descendant didn’t inherit them—but she’s even more beautiful, with those chestnut curls and eyes of hers. Beauty clouds judgement, and I know your Draco is of a sentimental mind. You need to instruct him not to be so easily distracted. A woman should never overshadow her husband, despite her rank or house.”

 

Lucius eyes narrowed for a second before turning back to look at his mother. Hermione Granger did have an iron-will, but she also had a nurturing soul. Any notions she would have of ‘reigning’ Draco in would disperse in due time. To his mind, all witches were forces to be reckoned with, but they always changed their tune when children came into the picture. His mother was wise, but that line of thinking was a tad outdated. Hermione wouldn’t put Draco in his place anymore than she’d overstep him. He could already tell, just from observing them, that love had begun to bloom. He had no doubt in his mind that Hermione would ever seek to overstep his son, especially when she was distracted by her children.

 

“Where Eliza was Ravenclaw and valued knowledge above all else, her descendant is a very different witch, Mother. Miss Granger is loyal to her core, but, once she conceives, her loyalty will be to that child.”

 

Lucius watched his mother's face soften into a smile. She had been a Ravenclaw as well and was very blunt when it came to her opinion. His father had always chastised his mother for it and taught him to be less forthcoming. He instilled that lesson into his son, and, even though Draco was a child at the time, Lucius knew he got through to him.

 

Clarissa hummed in approval. “Then Draco’s task is simple: ensure she conceives.”

 

“Draco knows what is at stake mother. He knows his duty.”

 

Draco’s Bedroom, Yule

 

She was a vision as she threw back her head and raked her fingers through her hair as she rode him. Gripping her arse Draco rocked in and out of her in a frenzy. Kissing her neck, he groaned when he felt her begin to contract around him again. He trailed hot kisses over the tops of her lovely breasts with a smile and gently kneaded her arse cheeks. When she keened and shuddered in ecstasy, he emptied himself in her.

 

After a few cycles of breaths, he flipped her over and pulled out. He cupped her face then to kiss her languidly until her body stopped quaking. When she widened her legs to ease him back inside her, he chuckled and thrust back in again. He knew their love-making would be like this the second their hands touched in the Three Broomsticks all those weeks ago. They had a chemical attraction which rendered them both physically charged. It translated into an incessant need to shag all the time, only stimulating the potion she was on. In short, he theorized, shagging would take up more time for him than potion-making or Quidditch. Thank Merlin, he thought to take a potion of his own.

 

“Don’t laugh at me. I came in here not two hours ago to wake you up, just to have you use your Slytherin wiles on me. First, you massage me with those hands of yours, then shag me within an inch of my life—Merlin knows how many times!” She panted, throwing her head back to continue. “Now I only want to do it again—harder, slower, longer—which makes me wonder if I've become a depraved leech! Unless it has something to do with that potion I took. Just what exactly does it do, Draco?”

 

“It simply heightens your libido and prepares your body for pregnancy,” he replied, moving steadily inside her. “You’re going to want to shag me whenever I’m in close proximity, and me specifically because the potion has my essence in it. Think of it as libido inducing Amortentia; its intent is to stimulate and boost your reproductive hormones. Its purpose is to achieve conception, and you’ll only stop wanting to shag me when that happens.” He would have to lower her dosage, or she would be most likely conceive within a month. Not that he was complaining, but he wanted to enjoy the process a bit more, wanted to enjoy having her to himself before his heirs were born. He knew the potion she was on would ensure it. In fact, by his estimation she would be pregnant before or by their wedding at the current rate and factors surrounding them.

 

“Is this potion on the market? Why have I never heard of it before?” she asked breathily, gripping his hips to urge him faster. He quickened his pace and nipped at her throat before considering her question.

 

“It’s my own creation. I developed it last summer, and it was verified by the Board of Magical Health at the Ministry. It’s not public yet because St. Mungo’s is still testing its effectiveness against their own fertility methods. But it works, or it wouldn’t have even made it past the Ministry. However, it’s not an instant cure; it needs a bit of stimulation,” he replied grinning while sliding in and out of her purposely, groaning at how wet she was.

 

“Wait, but then when we’re back at Hogwarts, if we’re sharing the same class…” She breathed in horror.

 

Grimacing, he replied, “Yes, even then. But we’re engaged now, so we could easily detour back to the Head Dorms. Think of it this way: the more we shag, the higher the chance that you’ll conceive, and the less you’ll want to shag me in Potions.”

 

This was true, even if he was being crass. Daphne Greengrass and Thomas Bones, for example, left classes constantly, excusing their absences for wedding preparations. Of course, everyone knew they were simply going back to Slytherin House for some extra-curricular activities. Hermione, he knew, wouldn’t like the notion of foregoing academics for a quick shag. However, he knew she wouldn’t be able to resist. The potion would bring her baser instincts to the surface, and she would seek him out despite herself.

 

Grabbing fistfuls of her hair, she keened again and he felt her contract around him, signaling another orgasm. He closed his eyes and shuddered as he came undone around her in turn, holding her to his chest. When his heart stopped hammering against hers, he opened his eyes to stare into her own drowsy amber ones. She was truly a vision, lying on his bed with her skin glistening with sweat and her curls draped over his pillow. He spent weeks fantasizing about this precise moment, of having her writhing beneath him, on his bed, in his room. In fact, to his mild awe and pleasure she was already cupping his arse, and gripping his hips with her legs, her eyes feverish and wanton for another round.

 

A second later, a house elf popped into his bedroom, making her dive for the sheets to hide her nakedness. He cursed under his breath and turned cold eyes to the offending imp.

 

“Master Draco, sir, Mistress Narcissa requests you and Miss Hermione join her for tea. Another guest has joined sir, a Mistress Arielle Beguesse from Spain, sir,” the house elf relayed before popping out again.

 

Hermione turned inquisitive eyes on Draco. “Who is that?”

 

Draco smiled back at her. “A distant relative. I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou so much to Naarna & Chanda Williams for reviewing this chapter! xo


	12. Arielle Beguesse

 Malfoy Dining Room, Yule 1999

 

Looking at Arielle Beguesse was like looking at an oil painting. She had impossibly long, curly, auburn hair, flawless olive skin and slanted green eyes. She was very curvy—in the way Muggle American models were—and seemed to glow without the guise of makeup. At the moment, her hands were gesturing while she ate her clam chowder, her eyes wide and expressive as she spoke to Draco.

 

“Yes, I studied at Castille College in Barcelona. They have an exceptional magical neurology program. Aunt Narcissa wrote me a few months ago. She said you have a patient in a magical coma?”

 

Shifting his eyes to Hermione quickly, Draco nodded and replied, “I do. I’m trying to revive him, but, until I get my Healer certification, I can’t get past the Healers monitoring his condition. All I’ve managed to do so far is communicate with his house-elves and take down notes. I’ve met with his father a few weeks ago, but his condition hasn't changed. His healers don't know how to revive him so they're pretty futile.”

 

Arielle sat back at this and looked at Hermione. “Was he trying to break the Blood Pact?”

 

Lucius cleared his throat. “And just how do you know of such things?”

 

Arielle laughed prettily at her uncle. “You think if I was a boy, Mama wouldn't contest your claim to the Anjou heiress—we may not be Malfoys by blood, but we are by marriage.Clarissa Beguesse was my great-aunt. If I was a boy, I would leap at such a union.Elemental magic, alchemists, seers. What wizard wouldn't dream of spreading Hermione’s slender thighs for that legacy?”

 

Lucius snorted and turned to Hermione, who was fidgeting in her seat, flushed and trying to stay focused. “Forgive my cousin, Hermione. She has a penchant to be crude on occasion. I suppose manners aren't of our variation in Spain.”

 

Arielle laughed again. “Great Aunt Clarissa did tell Mama when she was a girl about the Malfoy’s gift to sway women.” She turned toward Draco, who was smiling into his lap, to address him. “Tell me, cousin: has the lovely Hermione ever obeyed a command when, per se, you weren't holding a wand?”

 

Draco considered her and replied, “On a few occasions, yes, and no, I wasn't holding a wand.”

 

Arielle smiled. “Did you perhaps feel powerful when you asked her? And did pretty Hermione do as you asked without hesitation?”

 

Hermione blinked between the two cousins and interjected, “Forgive my intrusion. Draco, you never told me you had Veela in your blood.”

 

Confused, Draco turned to his father. “We don’t. At least, not that I’m aware of. Father?”

 

Lucius looked at Narcissa before clearing his throat to agree, “We don’t, and our family never has consorted with Veela. I’m not sure where you’re getting this information from, Arielle, but this isn’t a topic for polite dinner conversation.”

 

Hermione looked at Draco, who simply shrugged at her.

 

Arielle just inclined her head, properly chastised. “Draco, if it is a reaction to trying to break the Blood Magic, I think I may be of assistance. I do have my Healer certification, and Spain isn’t as ignorant in their knowledge of Blood Magic as England. I believe I can help your patient. I've decided to move back to Oxford, so I'm fairly within Apparition distance should you need me. I can also stay with the patient—depending on his condition—if he has guest quarters.”

 

Hermione leaned in and asked,  “Why do they teach Blood Magic in Spain and not in England? Isn't St. Mungo's the best magical hospital in Europe?”

 

Arielle laughed at that and shook her head. “No, sweet girl, the best magical hospital is Castile Estates—commissioned by Isabella of Aragon centuries ago. England isn't what it used to be. There aren't enough purebloods left to maintain the old ways.”

 

“Nott Manor has guests quarters, Arielle, and Thoros Nott will make sure you're comfortable during your stay. You should probably owl your mother and let her know you're not returning,” Narcissa urged softly.

 

Arielle turned to Draco and Hermione. “Would you like me to assist Lord Nott? I would do it as a favour to your family, Draco. I can't promise I'll be able to revive or restore him immediately, but I'll do my utmost.”

 

Draco was staring at Hermione who nodded before he replied, “Hermione and I return on January 3rd, which is next Tuesday. I have to send an owl to Lord Nott, but we could go this Friday morning—if that works for you.”

 

Arielle leaned forward with a smile. “That would work fine. Thank you for letting me help; the more patients I tend, the more equipped I’ll be when I get an official posting.”

 

Malfoy Gardens, Yule

 

Hermione stroked her fingers against a clump of Stasis preserved Impatiens, her gaze dreamy and her mind at ease. It was a gorgeous day outside despite the cool winter air. The sun was shining and she spent most of that morning in bed with Draco.

 

Three days had passed since Arielle’s visit, and Draco was in his lab working on a tincture for Thoros to suggest to the Healers. He was to go with Arielle tomorrow, and he wanted to be prepared for the visit. When Draco had agreed to oversee Theo’s treatment, she never thought he’d be this committed. He’d been corresponding constantly with Thoros and received progress reports from the Nott house-elves. Because of that, she’d found herself more committed and devoted to Draco. Every evening for the past week since their official engagement, she`d been taking the potion before bed. She knew he reduced her dosage—she wasn’t taking the full vial now—but she was still ravenous for him.

The potion, like she discovered previously, worked to heighten her libido and increase the likelihood of conception. As a result, whenever Draco wasn’t in his lab or with his family during meals, they were together.

It wasn’t like when she was Theo, which was animalistic in nature. This was more sensual, raw and hypnotic in vibe. She was drawn to him; her body craved his on a biological/primal level. But she also had long, winding conversations with him. They were intellectual equals, and she found he was just as prolific in Potions and Healing as she was in Ancient Runes. He even had an affinity for Ancient Runes, which he had demonstrated earlier that morning.

* * *

 

_Draco’s Bedroom, Yule_

 

 _Draco’s silk sheets were tossed on the floor beside the duvet, along with her pale green lacy knickers. His face was nestled between her breasts, lazily suckling on her left while he pulled on the peak of her right. He was also slipping torturously in and out of her_ — _in tandem with her moans. She was so wet with arousal that his movements were deliciously audible._

 

_The lanterns hovering nearby cast shadows across his face, highlighting the silver of his hair which she perpetually found arresting._

 

_When he lifted his head, he looked over at the Ancient Runes book she had on his nightstand next to her empty potion vial._

 

_“What’s that one about?” he asked as her inner walls began to flutter around him._

 

_“Professor Vector gave me a text regarding,” she began, only to arch before continuing, “the Ancient Picts. It’s an independent study for Trinity College in Dublin. I’ve been trying to work out one symbol; it’s a series of ovals.”_

 

_Draco’s head came up from her breast then, continuing his rhythm steadily. “The triple oval indicates a Protego behind a bronze plate.”_

 

_She stared at him stunned for a moment when her final orgasm ripped through her body.  She stretched through it, and he massaged her arse before emptying himself in her._

 

_For a few minutes, she lay beside him while he poured some oils onto his hand. Rubbing his hands together, he began to knead her sensitive breasts, using the same tincture he had earlier. She would have to ask Tinzy later what exactly was in the oil she made; her skin had never felt softer nor glowed the way it did after Draco applied it. But, while his touch was heavenly, his intellect blew her mind._

 

_“How did you know that? I’m pretty sure you’re correct, but I never knew you studied Ancient Runes,” she purred, stretching her arms out as he worked the oil into her breast._

 

_“I went to a couple lectures with Rolf last summer while in Argentina. He went because he thought they’d touch on some rare curses. He was wrong, but the class was illuminating,” he replied distractedly. She reached up to grip his shoulders making him slide back in, and moaned just as he shuddered._

 

_“Are you sure you don’t want to rest? We’ve been at this all morning,” she mewled, kissing his throat._

 

_“I don’t think I’ll ever tire of you,” he replied huskily, combing his fingers through her soft curls._

 

_She knew he was taking a Virilem potion--a potion that increased his stamina. He was certainly agile, but even she knew she was especially wanton lately._

* * *

 

A whispering voice jolted her out of the memory. “Thinking about me?”

 

Hermione whirled around, the soft cashmere of her dress pleating as she faced Draco. He stood there with his hands casually in his pocket, his face handsome and his hair disheveled. He wore his usual thick scarf and a pale grey set of robes. His face was flushed, no doubt from all the fumes from his potion lab. His hands were tucked into his pockets, shielding those clever fingers of his. Just that morning, she had woken to a shattering orgasm as a result of them buried deep inside her. He demonstrated, multiple times since they became intimate, that he wanted her despite the Blood Pact. Children would definitely come as they weren’t using any sort of protection. But he seemed to initiate intimacy more than she did, and he was just as affected by her as she was by him.

 

He proved that to her during and after the many times they had sex—he was insatiable, much to her pleasure.

 

“I’m just waiting for Arielle. Thoros sent me an owl; Theo’s condition is still stable, but the medi witches are at a loss for how to treat him,” he explained absently, squinting into the sky. She imagined he was contemplating taking his broom out for a spin. The conditions were certainly favourable despite the snow. She knew he would just cast a charm, an Impervious or something, and the snow wouldn’t phase him.  

 

She, however, was distracted by the way his triceps flexed under his woolen jumper when he stretched, and she bit her lip when she felt her knickers beginning to soak through. Rubbing her thighs together, she met his eyes in time to watch them widen as crimson stained his cheeks.  She visibly saw him switch gears—in the way men did—and focus on her with keen interest. She knew he was always game to get her undressed and under him, but she also knew he didn’t want to come of as lecherous. However, his sense of decency was unfounded because she was wild for him. He may think it was all the potion, but she was just as wild for him as he was for her—if not more.

 

She grinned wickedly when his eyes went glassy with desire. She knew he was focusing on the points of her breasts, clearly defined through the material of her dress. She usually went without a bra, as her breasts were small to begin with, but Draco seemed to think otherwise.

 

When his eyes did meet hers, his pupils were blown wide, and she knew she had him, hook, line and sinker. Tipping his head toward the greenhouse, he waggled his eyebrows at her. “We could kip to the greenhouse quickly.”

 

Face burning, Hermione pretended to consider his request for a second before nodding devilishly. _Merlin she was turning into a harlo_ t _!_ But she knew Ginny and Anna would applaud her in this scenario. Anna in particular would commend the way she seduced Draco wordlessly, making him think he was doing the seducing. She bit her lip at him coyly then turned to glide through the steamy glass doors of Malfoy Greenhouse. Draco silently cast a Silencio, then looked casually in each direction before he turned to follow her.

 

Nott Manor, Yule

 

Thoros Nott sat in an armchair by Theo when Draco and Arielle arrived.

 

“Thoros,” Draco greeted warmly, moving to the older man to shake his hand.

 

Thoros Nott looked up at Draco, who instantly felt terrible for the man. Thoros Nott, once a handsome and well-spoken wizard, looked broken. His silver curls looked ragged, and his eyes were severely shadowed. When he stood, he inclined his head at Draco and swivelled his head to Arielle.

 

“Thoros, it's good to see you. This is my cousin, Arielle. She's a Healer with extensive knowledge in Blood Magic. I believe she can help me treat Theo,” Draco explained.

 

Arielle stepped forward and grasped Thoros’ cold hands in her. “I will do my very best, Mr. Nott. I'll be acting as as his primary Healer until Draco has earned his Healer certification from St. Mungo’s.”

 

Thoros looked between them as he spoke , “But Draco will be brewing all the tinctures and potions that you give to Theo?”

 

Draco nodded, “Yes. I won't sway in that, Thoros. I just won't be physically administering them. When Hermione initially asked me to oversee Theo, I knew it would be hard getting in and out of Hogwarts. Arielle has agreed to remain here with Theo until I've taken my N.E.W.T’s and sat my entrance exam to St. Mungo's. I promise that I will be brewing everything for him.”

 

Thoros exhaled audibly, then he turned to Arielle. “Can I send those blasted Healers away then? They've been completely inane.”

 

Arielle nodded. “Yes, I believe I can persuade them to leave. Anyways, I’m more than capable to take over--I finished my residency in Barcelona just last month. I'll go have a word with them.”

 

She turned on her heel and walked over to three gangly wizards who all but gawked at her.

 

“How is Hermione Anjou? I take it she's accepted your suit?” Thoros asked heavily.

 

Face flushed, Draco nodded, “Yes, but not before she made sure I was Theo’s Healer.”

 

Thoros chucked at that. “A Gryffindor to her core, that one. Well, I'm glad. Your prowess in potions is reaching even my ranks. Your father mentioned you've developed a new potion to help satisfy your obligation to the Blood Magic?”

 

Thoros and Lucius had been mates since their Hogwarts days. Despite all that transpired, Lucius still visited Thoros for chess every Sunday. Draco knew his father was proud of his proclivity for potions, so naturally all his friends would know.

 

Draco nodded again, flushing.

 

“No need to be embarrassed my boy. That's very impressive. If it passes St. Mungo's, the Malfoy fortunes will increase tenfold. I only wish it had been around when Callia was alive; she always wanted a large family. But she gave me Theo.” At that, his eyes crinkled, a faint smile ghosting across his lips.

 

Arielle came back just as the three Healers Disapparated with a pop. She was smiling and said, “They won't be back. I'm now unofficially Theodore Nott’s Healer and won't be disturbed. I’m going to owl my academic transcripts over to St.Mungo’s, lucky I brought a copy with me.Draco, what's the progress on that potion?”

 

He grimaced. “It needs three more moon cycles. But I have another I've been working on. It works like Legilimency, but it allows you to delve into a magically-induced mind. The only thing is, the subject will be aware of your presence. I haven't tested it completely, but the ingredients I used are legion.”

 

“Did you use blue phoenix feathers?” she asked excitedly.

 

Draco smiled at her and nodded. “I did. I'll let you know if it's ready before I leave for Hogwarts. I need to get back to the Manor.”

 

Arielle smiled and shook her head at him. She'd been over for tea twice this week and both times Draco was absent. Narcissa only ever shrugged delicately and mentioned her son was probably in the garden. Arielle knew the garden was just a nefarious word for _shagging._  Not that Arielle much blamed her Aunty. Draco and Hermione had a very difficult obligation to the Blood Magic. She knew that no Malfoy in a hundred of years had produced more than one male heir. She didn't know, however, if that was by choice or not. Aunt Narcissa, she knew from family gossip, had desperately wanted another child, but there were complications. She heard that her Aunt Clarissa yearned for another child, too, but her husband denied her. She was a vain and beautiful woman who always bent to her husband's wishes. Uncle Lucius had grown up with her mama, and so the Malfoy and Beguesse lines were always close. She knew Draco was very private and rarely had girlfriends growing up. The fact that he was always with Hermione spoke volumes; he wasn’t just satisfying a Blood Pact. He loved her. He wouldn’t deny her anything, and Arielle knew if Hermione were to ask, he would give her several children.

 

Draco winked at her and walked with Thoros to where Theo lay, shrouded in a shimmering gauze meant to keep his condition stable. Arielle moved behind them to lay eyes on her patient for the first time.

 

“Hello Theodore,” she murmured, her green eyes sweeping from his black curls to the blue of his finger tips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou so much to Naarna & Chanda Williams for reviewing this chapter :)


	13. Good Things Come in Three's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time Jump Warning: This Chapter takes place roughly 3 months after Yule. It is now early March

 

Ancient Runes, Winter Term

 

Hermione was distracted. Lately, or, if she was honest the last few weeks, she’d been feeling off. She had tons of energy while in bed with Draco, but other than that she’d been lethargic and absent-minded. This morning even she’d slept past her alarm clock—for the first time in years. She only woke when Draco returned from Quidditch, sweaty and sexually charged. He didn’t mind her sleepiness and simply stripped off his gear to climb on top of her—she recently started sleeping in the nude; bare skin against satin sheets was phenomenal. When she left for classes that morning, she was so disoriented that she didn’t even stop for breakfast, which she guessed was why her stomach currently churned. Staring out the window, she watched the soft rain of early March fall, making her steeple her eyes sleepily. Rain meant spring was almost here, and that meant flowers, warm sunshine, and those beautiful cardinals that lived in the trees surrounding Anjou Manor. She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to imagine their sweet trill. A few weeks ago at the Yule Ball, the music was almost as beautiful, almost as lovely as singing cardinals at dawn. There was a live band, and the pianist was remarkable. But it was Draco that made her swoon—both in and out of the Great Hall.

* * *

 

_The Great Hall, Yule Ball 2000_

_The Yule Ball was glorious, in every sense of the word. She made sure everything from the Venetian cider to the_ _crème brûlée_ _was perfect. Students ranging from fifth to seventh years mingled amongst each other. A nymph was crooning a ballad, so achingly beautiful that it brought tears to her eyes._

 _“You look exquisite tonight. Did I tell you that?” Draco murmured into her ears. His arms were around her, and she was currently basking in the scent of cedar and pine that was all Draco. She smiled and turned, but then she paused to watch the light from the chandelier glint off her engagement ring. She was still dazzled by it; she never took it off_ — _not even when she was in bed with Draco. He made her feel like a deity from one of her book of sonnets, and yes, he had told her she was exquisite, at least three times already._

 _“You did.” She smiled, blinking at him when he kissed the side of her throat. She knew everyone was staring, but she didn’t care. They were officially engaged, and every pureblood in the Great Hall knew that_ — _all members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. It was just the Muggleborns, and a few half-bloods who lifted their eyebrows at them. She was a bit embarrassed. She didn’t exactly want to be the focal point of the evening_ — _she’d rather be back in the Head Dormitory or the library studying for her Ancient Runes exam. Professor Vector had informed them they would be having a few examinations prior to the final one, which would also serve as an entrance exam into any college or profession the Seventh or Eighth years favoured. She had planned to attend Avalon College earlier this year, but she knew now, given the Blood Pact, that plan wouldn’t be feasible. She wasn’t exactly a feminist_ . _She knew her obligation to the Blood Pact would channel all her attention, at least until her 25th birthday. She wanted to be the kind of mother her own had been to her. Helen was a dentist, but she had taken off a considerable amount of time while Hermione was growing up. She only went full-time after Hermione was seven, and she confided in her that she believed a woman's first and most important duty is to be a mother to her children. That entailed that Helen stayed at home for Hermione’s formative years._

_It wasn’t that she was against feminism; it’s just that she believed every witch OR wizard, should be able to choose. She would stay at home and rear her children, and then, if her ambitions remained the same, she would attend Avalon College._

_She knew Draco had no reservations on sitting the pre-Healership exams, but, again, that was his choice.  It was also his choice to have his arms around her center_ — _in front of everyone_ — _with his lips pressed to her throat._  

_When his hands slid to her hipbone and he pressed himself into her back, she placed her hand over his and whispered, “Shall we head back?”_

_She tilted her head and watched him scan the Great Hall. The Yule Ball was coming to a close; it was already 12:45 a.m., and even the Headmistress had retired. Hermione followed his gaze where it lighted on Astoria Greengrass, who was ferociously snogging Anthony Goldstein. The girl’s gown, a shimmering mauve slip was gaping open at her back. Hermione turned her face back to Draco and shivered when he traced his fingers along her shoulders. She moaned lowly when he replaced his fingers with his lips, which made her rub her thighs together in earnest._

_“I think it would be safe to go back. Are you tired?” he murmured softly into her ear, his hands massaging her sides._

_She bit her lip and shook her head._

_He chuckled before turning to signal to Jerry Wilkes, who made a face, then walked over to him._

_“Granger and I are heading back. Can I count on you to make sure everything is alright in our absence?” Draco asked, his eyes focused on the burly Slytherin._

_She watched the pair of them and cringed slightly when Jerry’s eyes landed on the deep v of her dress. The dress itself was a beauty, but she didn’t wager the front of it being as revealing as it was. When she ordered it, the description said “flattering”. The deep v of the neckline was an exaggeration of that word, much to Draco’s pleasure. He may have been a swot when it came to Potions, but lately he was more interested in the different tenors of her moans than anything else._

_“Eyes up here, Wilkes,” Draco said silkily._

  _Jerry’s eyes flew back to Draco’s, only to roll them as he replied, “By your leave.”_

 _Draco took her hand then, and they made their way back to the Head Dormitory, both, no doubt, trying to keep from ripping each other's clothes off. Hogwarts was as silent as a crypt as they walked through it, hand in hand. When they finally made it to the Head Dormitory, Draco turned to her and wordlessly her gown slithered off._ Merlin.

_“Finally.”_

* * *

 

“Miss Granger?,” Professor Vector asked.

 

Blinking blearily, she started when she found the classroom empty, and Professor Vector looking at her curiously.

 

“I’m sorry, Professor Vector. I must have dozed off,” she apologized weakly. Picking up her satchel, she rushed out of the classroom, straight into Anna.

 

“Hermione! There you are. Gin and I have been looking everywhere for you,” she said airily.

 

Hermione muffled a yawn before following her down the spiral staircase towards the Great Hall for lunch.

 

“You look a bit peaky. Hasn't Narcissa been showing you any glamour spells? She's famed for them,” Anna asked, looking at her with mild concern.

 

Hermione smoothed her hair. “I did! And she did. Merlin, that women has a spell for every flaw you can think of.”

 

Anna smiled wryly. “I can believe it. So, I’ve been dying to ask if Malfoy is better in bed than Nott.”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes at her friend then stopped suddenly. Her vision blurred and her world tipped for a second. Vertigo. Placing a hand on Anna’s shoulder, she closed her eyes and counted to three.

 

“How long has that been happening?” Anna asked, her voice again tinged with concern.

 

She opened her eyes slowly. “The spinning you mean? Oh, it’s nothing. I just didn’t eat breakfast today. Speaking of which, I’m starving.”

 

Anna threw her a look before quipping, “I mean, or Draco Malfoy is wearing you out. You never answered my question.”

 

“Yes, and I don’t believe I will. Unless you’ve forgotten, Theo is lying comatose in Wiltshire. I don’t feel comfortable reminiscing of how good of a shag he was. In any case, you know how I feel about Draco—I owled both you and Ginny.”

 

She did. While Draco had gone to Nott Manor with Arielle, she had taken the time to write descriptive letters to both her friends. Ginny’s reply had been instantaneous—almost as if she’d been expecting a letter like it. Anna simply sent her a reply back with a single exclamation mark. She felt strange disclosing all the sordid details via Owl Post, but she made a promise. Plus, her sex life with Draco, or the one she had up till that moment, was decidedly luscious. She was a bit curious if Ginny and Anna had experienced anything like it, but both girls didn’t seem to read her underlying question. Theo had been great, but he wasn’t as sensual as Draco was. He didn’t elicit the same reactions and feelings from her that Draco inspired. Theo certainly made her orgasm, but it was the most basic kind—not that she ever verbally complained. Obviously she did her research; she knew women could experience different kinds. She had only ever had clitoral orgasm with Theo, which was pretty standard. Draco, on the other hand, gave her multiple orgasms—as in, she had one after the next in a short span of time. It was fantastic. However, she wasn’t about to disclose that tidbit to Anna. All she told her friends was that Draco was a blessing to witches and how much they shagged thus far—which was give or take 7-12 times over the Yule holiday.

 

Anna rolled her eyes at her just as they reached the Great Hall. As soon as Hermione entered, she searched for Draco, who, sensing her, looked up.

 

“Hermione!” called a high voice.

 

Hermione turned toward the voice and saw Astoria Greengrass walking towards her with a square of parchment in her hands.

 

“Mcgonagall has been looking for you. She asked that you meet with her in twenty minutes,”  Astoria said handing Hermione the note with the Headmistress’ seal on it.

 

Looking forlornly at the tureens of Butternut Squash, Hermione left the Great Hall. She only made it to the next corridor when Draco gripped her hand. She would know his touch anywhere; he was the only man whose grip made her blood sing.

 

Up close, she was able to inspect him a bit more. His hair was mussed and his face was windburned. He looked like he just came back from the Quidditch pitch—Slytherin would face Hufflepuff next week. Quelling her frustration— _Merlin, she would kill for some avocado on toast right about now_ —she asked, “What is it? I have a meeting with McGonagall.”

 

“That’s in twenty minutes. Surely you have time to come back to the Head Dormitories with me quickly?” he asked, his eyes moving over her hungrily. She lifted one amused eye at him as she studied the lust in his eyes. He was insatiable lately, if she didn't know any better, she would think he was taking the fertility potion too.

 

She knew not to tease him. When they first got back to Hogwarts after Yule, she opted to wear a few chiffon dresses, or just very thin ones.

 

Given her constant state of arousal around him, it wasn’t the best decision she made. She only made it midweek, when she wore a short pale green number with a high neck. They were both in Charms when they left within 20 minutes. She rushed out, heels clicking, with Draco behind her—they only made it as far as the couch in the Heads Dormitory before the dress came off and he slid in.

 

But she still chose to go without a bra, and today the crepe material of her frock clung deliciously to her. Due to Tinzy’s oil—which he’d been massaging her with almost on a weekly basis—her breasts were fuller and more lush than ever. She knew just from his dilated pupils  that he wanted her very badly. Merlin only knew she gave him that very same look on plenty of occasions. Merlin, they had an exceptional sex life. 

* * *

 

_Headboy Quatres, Winter Term 2000_

 

_Candles were scattered all over his room, making the air smell of pine and sandalwood. But all she smelled and saw was him, rising over her, taking her in, trailing his fingers over her breasts._

_Long, lean muscles, impossibly pale skin and eyes the colour of molten silver_ — _he was magnificent. She was in love with him; she knew when he slid into her bonelessly. She knew it when he left his potion simmering to escort her back up here._

_Kneading her breasts, he suckled from them in fervour until she felt that spiraling sensation in her stomach. When she cried out, he moved to taste her lips, and when she locked her legs over his hips, she felt him come undone within her._

_“You don’t know how much I yearn for you. It’s endless, unyielding. I can’t go to breakfast without having you. I can’t sleep without you inside me. Will it never end? I don’t think I’ll be able to bear it either way,” she panted, arching up into him while he rubbed her lower back._

_“I hope it never does. I want you just as much, as often,” he murmured back to her._

_Taking her hands in his, he clasped them over her head and slipped inside her again, ready and primed to drive them both wilder with need._

* * *

 

She just bit her lips and looked at him. She really knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't resist the look he was giving her.

 

Just before she was about to say yes, Blaise Zabini strutted through the doors of the Great Hall addressing Draco as he spoke, “Malfoy! What is with witches mate, just one thing on their bloody—”

 

Hermione simply raised an amused eye at him and tapped her foot while Draco scowled at his mate.

 

“No, Blaise, by all means finish that sentence,” Hermione quipped with her eyebrows raised.

 

Blaise just rolled his eyes, heaved out a breath and brought his goblet of hazelnut coffee to his lips before squinting at her. “Are you alright?”

 

Hermione suddenly buckled over and retched out the pitiful contents of her stomach. Draco instantly pulled back her hair and turned to Blaise. “Tell McGonagall the Head Girl has taken ill.”

 

Hogwarts Hospital Wing, Winter Term 2000

 

Hermione sat on the hospital bed, reeling in shock. Madam Pomfrey was busily writing down a list of ingredients for an exceptionally strong prenatal potion.

 

As soon as they came in, Madam Pomfrey sussed out exactly what was wrong with Hermione. After a quick diagnostic charm and a brief conversation with a green looking Draco, Madam Pomfrey delivered some not so shocking news: Hermione was pregnant.

 

“Now, Miss Granger, it`s very important you take this potion every morning. You're very early in your pregnancy, roughly 3 weeks along. I know you're Muggleborn and that obstetricians typically wait until the second trimester for an ultrasound. They do this, I understand, as to not harm the fetus. However, we Healers have a spell for that—one I could perform immediately if you want me to."

 

Hermione nodded. "Yes."

 

"Fetalis Invisio," Madam Pomfrey whispered, waving her wand intricately over Hermione's stomach.

 

A golden glow surrounded Hermione`s stomach and a projection of three extremely tiny embryos rose up, all turned on their side. Hermione's shock instantly turned to wonder, and Draco just gaped.

 

The pair were also shocked that the medi-witch wasn't surprised by her diagnosis. Madam Pomfrey must have realized what their silence meant, so she addressed it in her usual, direct way.

 

“I know what goes on in this castle, Miss Granger. You wouldn`t be the first to conceive before your nuptials. I also understand from my diagnostic spells that you're very fortunate indeed. Not many witches are as prolific as you.The Malfoys stand to gain a boon by you in the form of many heirs. I wouldn’t be as shocked if I were you, darling. This is a blessing. In fact, I foresee three more to come.” She smiled, looking at the stunned couple.

 

It wasn't much of a shock, if Hermione was honest. They had been up past midnight most nights burning for each other. They even snuck back to the Head Dorms multiple times during the day—much to her chagrin—to quench their arousal. She simply couldn’t get enough of him, and she knew he was only happy to feed her hunger. Like she discovered earlier—he was always game to shag her, but sometimes his Potions or Quidditch distracted him. She nipped that in the bud in early February by moving into his rooms and sleeping in the nude. However, that proved to squelch his inhibitions and fuel their love-making.The only shocking part of this scenario were the triplets she now carried in her womb.

 

“Three. We're having three,” Draco murmured, looking at Hermione in amazement.

 

“Yes. Congratulations Mr. Malfoy. Miss Granger is obviously a very fertile witch. Only two in every 20 witches conceive triplets, but that means Miss Granger is going to have to take it easy. That means lots of rest, a healthy diet, and a rich prenatal potion to help the babies grow. Triplets are notorious, even in the magical world, for being premature, so I urge you to slow down other activities as well,” she said, quirking an eye at Draco, who flushed vermilion.

 

Madam Pomfrey put down her wand and swept a hand over Hermione’s forehead. “You should take the day off from classes, my dear. I’ll write you a note and send up Headmistress McGonagall, who has an issue to discuss with you, I believe. But in the meantime, Mr Malfoy, this is a prescription for Miss Granger’s prenatal potion. I may not keep my ear to the ground, but I know you have a proclivity for brewing. It is up to you whether you’d like to have Professor Slughorn brew it or not, but just be careful with the vitamix,” she said, handing the note to Draco.

 

He took it and waited for Madam Pomfrey to leave before turning to his very pale fiancée.

“Triplets. We’re having triplets,” he repeated.

 

“Three more blessings. She said she foresaw three more blessings. Is the Hogwarts medi-witch a seer, or is she in cohorts with Sibyl Trelawney. Just what is in that potion I took?”

 

He just took her hands and waited for her breathing to calm before he smiled. “I’ve explained this. You know how it works or you wouldn’t touch it. I'll take all six children if that’s what fate has in store for us. Part of Healer training includes Divination, so she may very well be correct. Remember, to accommodate the Blood Pact I have to give you five sons. I just didn’t think it would happen this quickly,” he mused.

 

Hermione sighed and laid back on the hospital bed, resting her hands on her stomach. “Touché. Your mother will be over the moon.”

 

“She will be, but she’ll also want to speed up our engagement or make our ceremony more exclusive. I imagine you’ll be quite large by May 1.” He chuckled, reaching over to glide his hand over her stomach.

 

“Merlin. I have to tell Harry. I haven’t seen Ron in months. And Mrs. Weasley will be furious I—” she began, only to stop when he lifted a hand to silence her.

 

"We'll have a small gathering at the Manor for Quinquatria. We'll invite whoever you'd like," he promised and kissed her forehead.

 

"The Spring Equinox? I like that," she replied, closing her eyes momentarily at the gentle touch of his lips against her forehead.

 

Just then, an eagle owl swooped in to deliver a folded note to Draco, who looked sharply at Hermione after he read it. “I need you stay at Malfoy Manor this weekend where my mother can take care of you. Arielle has asked me to come to Nott Manor. Theo’s condition has taken a turn for the worse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou so much to Chanda Williams & Naarna for reviewing this chapter!


	14. Luisa Malfoy

Malfoy Sitting Room,Winter Term 2000

 

The fireplace turned green and Hermione stepped through, Draco following quickly behind her. The body shield around her disappeared a moment later—an inverted Protego, which Draco had cast to protect her due to her pregnancy. It was a common spell used by pregnant witches when travelling via Floo.

 

Pregnant. She was still a bit shocked by that recent revelation, but the morning sickness and her constant fatigue now made sense. She had taken her first vial of prenatal potion earlier that morning. She did feel a bit better, but she still felt queasy. Draco told her she would start feeling more herself after a few hours, and she sincerely hoped he was right. She had no wish to get sick while in Malfoy Manor—everything was in such pristine condition!

 

She wondered absently what it was like when Draco had been born. Perhaps Narcissa cast some sort of spell to stop him from getting sick on the Persian carpets. Merlin, she needed to do research! But, between sleeping, eating, her Ancient Runes essay and being sick she didn’t have a chance. She hoped Narcissa would be able to advise her. She dearly wished she could speak to her own mother, or Molly Weasley, but that wasn’t possible at this given time. The first thought was out of the question, and the second was a bit of a sore topic. The Weasley matriarch was a bit upset that she had broken up with Ron. It would be a tad insensitive to ask her for baby advice, considering Molly sincerely yearned for grandchildren of her own. However, she knew Ron was currently seeing one Susan Bones, who also yearned for children. She didn’t know if Ron had escalated his relationship with the Ravenclaw yet, but she did know they lived together in Portsmouth.

 

“Oh, Draco! Hermione! You’re here,” Narcissa said, looking up from her book and bringing Hermione out of her thoughts.

 

She smiled at Narcissa then sighed when Draco wrapped his arms around her middle and chuckled into her ear.

 

“Hello, Mother. Father,” he greeted, as Lucius came into the sitting room, carrying a glass full of amber liquid. Hermione smiled, then gaped as a young man walked into the sitting room as well. A man with tousled wheat coloured hair and sly hazel eyes. He was followed by the lissome form of Luna Lovegood, who, true to her nature, was wearing a bright orange dress made entirely of orange peels.

 

“Rolf!” Draco exclaimed, moving over to clasp the wizard's hand. Hermione knew instantly that this was the famous Rolf Scamander. He looked remarkably like the pictures she'd seen of his grandfather, Newt Scamander, in his youth. He had the same bird-like features and was whippet-thin.

 

“Draco!” Rolf exclaimed back winningly. Luna laughed softly then turned her giant blue eyes to Hermione.

 

“Triplets! Hermione, you’ve certainly been busy,” she remarked, her eyes drifting lazily over Hermione.

 

Hermione looked at Draco instantly, and he turned puzzled eyes back. Narcissa looked anxious, and Lucius choked on the ale he’d been drinking.

 

“I’m sorry. You must be Hermione. Forgive Luna; she’s been taking a foresight potion I made recently. But that’s great! Congratulations mate!” Rolf crowed, ruffling Draco’s hair. He then turned his charming face to her, and she smiled back.

 

“It’s great to finally meet you. Draco’s spoken fondly of you. A foresight potion, you say?”

 

Rolf laughed and scratched the back of his head before he turned amused eyes over to Luna, who had moved silently over to Hermione, her hands hovering over Hermione’s flat abdomen.

 

“They’re very tiny but extremely powerful. I don’t advise going into the library; it’s full of wrackspurts—they don’t like elemental magic.”

 

Lucius set down his glass with a clink and turned incredulously to Luna, who stood there smiling pleasantly at an embarrassed Hermione.

 

Rolf cleared his throat and turned back to Draco. “Shall we head out? Luna volunteered to stay with Hermione.”

 

“I brought some books you might be interested in, Hermione. I think you’ll find they’re exactly what you’re after,” Luna trilled.

 

Hermione just walked over to the couch and sat down, which prompted Narcissa to place a cool hand across her forehead.

 

“Are you feeling alright? Maybe you should lie down for a bit.”

 

Draco looked over at her and frowned. “You didn’t sleep well last night. Maybe it would be prudent to have a nap. I don’t anticipate being at Nott Manor for very long, but I’ll try to be back as soon as I can regardless.”

 

Hermione nodded and tipped her face up to his for a kiss. He obliged, and she looked around at Narcissa. “ I’ll just be upstairs. Luna, I think I’ll take you up on those books later.”

 

Luna smiled, and sat down on the carpet near Hermione—much to Narcissa’s and Lucius’s chagrin. Rolf and Draco laughed before Disapparating.

  


Nott Manor, Winter 2000

 

Rolf and Draco Apparated into Theo’s bedroom and their attention was immediately on his comatose form. He looked exactly the same as when they last saw him, save for the dark blue tinge to his skin. There were also three heating pans under the mattress he slept on, and an extremely fluffy blanket was tossed over him. Draco turned wary eyes on Arielle, who shuffled into the room with several more thick blankets. She draped all off them onto Theo then turned frazzled eyes to him and Rolf. Her face was pale, and her hair was pulled up in a top knot. Dark circles lined her eyes, a clear indication she hadn't been sleeping, and when she spoke her voice was hoarse. “When I went to check on him last night, his vitals were really low. I only discovered his blood temperature was going down recently. He’s literally freezing. I’ve no idea how to stop it.”

 

Draco moved closer to crouch and peer into Theo’s face. Arielle was right; from his vantage point, he could see tiny ice crystals beginning to form on Theo’s eyelashes. This wasn’t good, not in the slightest. Witches and wizards had a higher tolerance when it came to temperature shifts, internal or external. But they eventually succumbed to hypothermia like any Muggle after a long period of time. He turned to Arielle and asked, “How long has it been? How many hours?”

 

She frowned down at Theo. “About three.”

 

Rolf reached into his pocket and pulled out five vials of a shimmering red potion—Pepper Up—and unstoppered one to spill it over Theo. The potion turned into a vapour once it interacted with oxygen , and glided over Theo like smoke tendrils. But there was an immediate result. Colour returned to Theo’s skin, and the ice crystals on his lashes melted. Rolf turned to Arielle and Draco. “This is only a temporary solution. I keep these on me; Luna has a cold. She keeps forgetting to bring these with her. It’s lucky that I had them on me, but we need to find the root cause of this.”

 

“Root cause?” Arielle echoed, looking confused.

 

Draco scrubbed his hand over his face. “This is a recent development. We need to find out why it happened and stop whatever made it happen.”

 

Rolf went over to a wooden table, which Arielle had been using as a potion desk, to start measuring out ingredients into a beaker. He looked up at Draco and smirked. “I wager it’ll take more than a couple of hours to figure that out. The Pepper Up only lasts for about forty minutes to an hour at best. I’m making more.”

 

Arielle nodded at him quickly to turn to Draco. “What do you propose we do?”

 

“If we can’t discover the root cause by the end of the day, we use Legilimency.”

 

Draco’s Bedroom, Malfoy Manor Winter 2000

 

Hermione opened her eyes slowly and pushed the heavy silk sheets off of her to sit up. She looked around blearily and spotted a vial of silver fluid—her prenatal potion. She reached for it, unstoppered it, and tossed it back before squinting at a picture frame. She’d been in this room countless times, and every time she’d looked at the painting, it depicted a lake scene. The banks of a pale blue lake, edged in mint. She blinked; she hadn’t put two and two together before, but she knew where that lake that was: Anjou Manor. It was beautifully rendered, but what made her sit up more wasn’t the brushstrokes but the woman in the painting.

She had ash blonde hair, ivory skin, and very pale blue eyes. Her hair was pulled back from her face into some sort of braid, and she wore a stiff white eyelet dress -- the kind Muggle women wore in the early 18th century. As Hermione studied the photo, blue eyes met brown.

 

“Hello. You must be the my descendant’s betrothed, the Anjou girl.”

 

Hermione blinked and leaned forward to study the witch's face. She was a very young woman. By her estimate she looked to be in her late teens. However, she was dressed beautifully in a paisley floor-length dress. She also wore tan gloves on her hands, which were resting on her heavily pregnant stomach.

 

“I’m Hermione Granger, soon to be Malfoy. Who are you?”

 

The woman cocked her head. “My name is Luisa Malfoy. I was friends with your ancestor, Eliza. This is the lake by Anjou Manor, but you already know that.”

 

Hermione nodded and sat back again. “Why have I never seen you before?”  


“I had to be sure you were the one. My descendants have taken many women over the years, all of them fair, but their magic was petty. Yours, in comparison, is bridled with power. I had a gift when I was alive, of being able to see and sense currents of magic in people. Yours is a tempest, one that I believe will yield strong sons for my descendant. I can already sense their might now. How far along are you?”

 

Hermione looked down at her very flat abdomen and replied, “About four weeks. Are you a seer?”

 

Luisa nodded, her eyes glinting at Hermione’s belly before lifting them back up to her face. “I was. That gift traversed with me to this painting. Is there a question you wish you ask, fair Hermione?”

 

Hermione swallowed and nodded. “ Will they be healthy? Will they satisfy the Blood Pact?”

 

“That is two questions, but for the sake of your ancestor I will answer both in full. They will be more than healthy. They will be stronger than the druids were before them centuries ago and powerful due to their Malfoy name. The three you carry won’t satisfy the blood pact alone. It’s the next three that will. Word travels fast, even amongst paintings, so even I know my descendant is a potion prodigy. The potion he’s brewed for you is very potent and should you take it during the next harvest moon you will conceive almost immediately. Do you wish to know anything else?”

 

Her head was spinning as thought after thought fired through her subconscious. _They would satisfy the blood pact. Draco would live. He’ll be ok. He can go on to become a Healer at St. Mungo’s._ She wasn’t concerned too much about the conceiving immediately part. She was more relieved about meeting the Blood Pact requirements. The subsequent pregnancies would be hard on her body, but she knew Draco would make sure she would be fine--both physically and mentally. He was already brewing all her potions for her and knew he had dubbed himself her unofficial magical obstetrician. She had spoken to him about going to St. Mungo’s for one, but he just scoffed at her. The wait list for a reputable magical obstetrician were long, and he knew the intricacies of pediatrics. He was, after all, taking Advanced Potions at Hogwarts, which had a focus on Pediatric Healership. He was also studying to sit his entrance exam to St. Mungo’s. But, all that aside, she did have another question; a question that didn’t involve foresight or the witch’s odd abilities.

 

“What exactly was the wording of the Blood Pact? Did you build any fail-safe spells into it?”

 

Luisa tilted her head to smile at her and remarked, “My oh my, but you are a clever witch. I am surprised you have not asked Eliza this.”

 

“How would I? There isn’t a portrait of her anywhere.”

 

“She is clever, pretty Hermione. She likes to listen and rarely likes to be seen. But do not worry, I’m sure she will reveal herself to you in due time. As for your question, of course we built fail-safes into it. Eliza and I knew there would be risks. The Blood Pact we forged would yield powerful children; we had to ensure nothing could thwart that. I imagine your previous suitor is feeling the effects of that, yes?”

 

Hermione paled and asked, “What did you do to him?”

 

“Don’t fret darling. His suffering isn’t in vain. Our spell is not meant to harm—it is meant to make him forget. One designed to have the same effects as the Obliviate charm, except no form of recovery will reverse its effects. I imagine that your previous suitor was fathoms in love with you. We can’t have that. He is in a coma for a reason—it will erase all his memories of you. The symptoms are intended to isolate the neurological psyche and eliminate all recollection of you.”

 

“But he will recover?”

 

“Oh yes. As for when he will recover will depend on the depths of his feelings for you. But make no mistake, when he does, he will not know your face—nor will he ever lust for you ever again.”

 

Greenhouse, Malfoy Manor 2000

 

Hermione sat across from Luna as she sipped her mug of ginger tea. The tea was spicy and hot, but it made her stomach feel better. After conversing with Luisa, she had left Draco’s room and made her way, introspectively, to the greenhouse.

 

“Anything on your mind, Hermione? The foresight potion is wearing off, so I can’t really tell. Unless you’d like to me to use Legilimency on you. However, I wouldn’t advise doing that as it may hurt Caillum.”

 

Hermione looked up with a frown and repeated, “ Caillum?”

 

“He’s your firstborn. He’s going to be especially sensitive to Legilimens, so you’ll need to teach him Occlumency. Archer and Rigel will be fine.”

 

“Tell me, Miss Lovegood. how is it that you know the precise names of my future grandchildren?” Narcissa asked, gliding into the greenhouse.

 

Luna looked up at the regal woman and smiled. “I had a glimpse when I first saw Hermione today. I didn’t say anything at the time because I think she may have wanted to surprise Draco.”

 

Hermione was smiling at Luna nodded at Narcissa’s unspoken question. “Yes, I was thinking about names—as I’m sure any woman would upon learning of her pregnancy. I know it’s a Black family tradition to choose celestial names. I like Caillum, Rigel and Archer the best, but I’m not certain if Draco will like them.”

 

“I think you’ll find that he will like whatever names you choose, Hermione.” Narcissa replied, smiling back.

 

“What were you thinking about earlier Hermione?” Luna asked, moving to pick up her own mug of tea.

 

Hermione looked at Narcissa when she replied, “I encountered a Malfoy family ancestor this morning. She said her name was Luisa Malfoy. She was beautiful; she looked very pregnant in her portrait.”

 

“It was said that Eos, her husband, found her most appealing when she was carrying his heirs, so she had that painting commissioned to hang in his study. She was the last Malfoy wife to procure more than the one son. She gave Eos several children in her lifetime. Not many knew but she was a distant cousin to Eliza Anjou. She inherited some Seer abilities, as well as another ability that made her just as revered as her kin; she was able to see magical energy, just as I imagine she saw yours,” Lucius said, leaning against the door to the greenhouse.

 

“Yes. She foretold that Draco and I would satisfy the terms of the blood pact, and echoed what Luna said this morning. She also told me that I’d have quite a number of children. I sincerely hope not as many as she apparently had.”

 

Narcissa clapped her hands together and looked at Lucius. “The more the merrier, my dear! I can’t wait for Draco to hear this wonderful prophecy. Did she tell you anything else?”

 

“She did. I believe the reason why Theo is in a coma is because of the spell she wove into the Blood Pact with my ancestor. It was designed to reverse love through a coma which works to blur the victims memories of me or Draco. So I’m assuming that Theo is suffering from some symptoms of the spell. When he wakes up, he won’t know me.”

 

Luna smiled at Hermione. “You didn’t really explain that very clearly, but I think I understand. Poor Theodore Nott. I hope he gets his happy ending.”

 

Lucius was frowning into his glass and voiced his concern. “Should someone send them a message?”

 

Hermione took out her wand and summoned the happiest memory she could think of. _The moment Harry won the war? No. The time she rid herself of her bad memories? Possibly. When Draco gave her a painting commissioned by her estranged mother?_ Closing her eyes she thought, “Expecto Patronum”. However, when she opened them she wasn’t greeted with her otter swimming through the air. She instead saw a very petite arctic fox with a sleek blue coloured coat.

 

“Wasn’t your Patronus an otter, Hermione?” Luna asked, tilting her head to the side curiously.

 

“Yes, but I’ve heard of them changing before.”

 

Narcissa smiled and said, “It changes when something alters in a witch's or wizard’s life. Andromeda told me that when Nymphadora met her Remus, her Patronus changed too. Yours has taken quite an interesting form.”

 

Hermione cast her eyes down to the fox, who was perched very patiently in front of her on top of the glass table. She lifted her wand and it stood up obediently as she intoned, “Draco, Theo’s condition is a symptom of a spell your ancestor and mine crafted. It’s only temporary and will lift soon. I spoke to the portrait of Luisa Malfoy; she told me that the coma Theo is in will keep until he’s lost all memory of me. I’m not sure how long that’ll take, but rest assured whatever is ailing him currently will lift.” The fox bowed its head once and streaked off, disappearing through the glass walls of the greenhouse.

  


Nott Manor, Winter 2000

 

Draco blinked as the fox disappeared and turned shocked eyes to Rolf and Arielle, who both looked bemused.

 

“Has her Patronus always taken that shape?” Arielle asked, smiling, still staring at the place where the blue fox disappeared.

 

Draco shook his head and blushed a bit under her subsequent giggle.

 

“But he’s going to recover, then? I’ve made quite a bit of Pepper Up, so I’d reckon you keep administering them until his symptoms disappear,” Rolf said, looking over at Theo.

 

Draco ran his hands through his hair and thought of the day his father gave him his first potion set. He thought of getting the letter from Professor Slughorn that allowed him to sit the pre-Healership exam to St. Mungo’s. He thought of Hermione, standing with him in his room in Malfoy Manor and agreeing to marry him. He closed his eyes briefly, and summoned his Patronus. When he opened them, an exact replica of Hermione’s arctic fox appeared. His however, had a sleek white coat and silver eyes. It had been his Patronus since the end of the last Wizarding War--when he was first able to cast a corporeal one.

 

“I’ll be there soon. Thanks for letting me know.” He watched his fox hop through the windows of Theo’s room. He didn’t know what the significance was regarding matching Patronuses, but he wagered it meant him and Hermione were well-matched. In any case, he would have to research it—which he knew Hermione would tackle the moment he got back.

 

Arielle smiled weakly at Theo, whom she had just poured Pepper Up over. She then turned to Draco and said, “Go. I’ll owl you should anything change. Hermione’s waiting for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou so much to Chanda Williams & Naarna!


	15. Ronald Weasley

Head Boy Quarters, Spring 2000

 

There were books everywhere.

Draco rolled his eyes at her endearingly as soon as he spotted her. She was red in the face—he assumed with excitement—as she read from one particularly large tome. From his perusal, he could see the beginnings of a belly jutting out through her abdomen. She wore a very thin plum coloured henley that, while very pretty, made her pregnancy very apparent. It had only been a couple weeks, but according to Ariel, Hermione would start showing very quickly due to carrying triplets. He wondered absently if anyone from Hogwarts suspected. Even though she now donned silky voluminous robes--that his mother ordered from her from Italy, she wasn’t acting herself. She was a creature of habit if he ever saw one. On Sundays, she spent the entire day in the Hogwarts Library, revising. On Tuesday and Thursday mornings, she practised yoga by the Black Lake. Every Wednesday, she reviewed the Prefect roster and made alterations to it based on special requests. She recently stopped adhering to that personal syllabus because of her constant fatigue, which was normal in early pregnancy. He noticed that she even slept a lot more and her appetite had increased.

Tinzy had started delivering entire crates of food—fruits, vegetables, stews, and soups.

At first he was puzzled by Hermione’s apparent herbivorous eating habits, but that quickly turned to fascination. He started studying her more closely and noticed she only ever ate vegetables at dinner, never touching meat. He knew, from a letter he received from his Aunt Andromeda, that this was a Muggle thing called vegetarianism. In the end, it didn't matter what she ate, only that she was getting all her vital nutrients. The prenatal potion he made her would ensure her health despite what she ate, but the almonds she snacked on helped too.

He knew her studies were still at the top of her list of priorities, but she took it easy. Usually she was burning the midnight oil writing essays and amending notes, but now she was in bed by 9pm. But before that, she usually had piles of books open on his bed researching Patronuses. He was particularly interested in that too; it was uncommon in the Magical world to have identical Patronuses.

In fact, as soon as they got back from Malfoy Manor a couple of weeks ago, he had wanted to go directly to the library, but they both got bogged down with Head duties.

For one, they had to host the third-quarter Prefect’s meeting. That had been a disaster, as Hermione was especially hormonal and snippy. She had even made one of the Hufflepuff Prefects cry before the meeting was through. Then Headmistress McGonagall had them organize lists of all the students taking entrance exams. There were at least 20 different entrance exams and it took days, if not weeks, to accomplish, as some students were still trying to qualify to take them. Each entrance exam into a corresponding college, university or apprenticeship had academic requirements. The Ministry of Magic entrance exam required all participants to be enrolled in Advanced Transfiguration, Advanced Charms and Ancient Runes. All three classes needed a corresponding O.W.L to get into. Some students were taking Remedial Charms in order to get into Advanced Charms, and therefore had to be placed on two lists—it was a complicated system, but that’s why it took forever for Hermione and him to do. After a few weeks, Hermione had finally gotten to the library to find it was closed. Madam Pince had taken a few days off to see some family in Belgium. As a result, Hermione had Tipsy bring over every book in Anjou Manor pertaining to Patronuses.

“So!” she began, looking up at him. “According to this book, the reason our Patronuses are nearly the same is because of a great upheaval. I reckon the great upheaval lives here.” She smiled, laying a hand on her belly.

She closed the book and laid back on the bed, exhaustion written all over her face. He squinted at her and laid next to her, wrapping his arms around her tummy. “Maybe you should take a break. You’ve been running yourself spare lately.”

They both had. He’d been busy studying for the St. Mungo’s entrance exams as well as dealing with Quidditch. He’d recently made Captain due to Theo’s prolonged absence. Professor Slughorn waited this long because he’d thought Theo would return, as most Slytherin seventh-year students often took extended vacations while completing their studies remotely. In fact, George Stavrous had been in Greece for the past few weeks and still maintained high marks in all his classes. It wasn’t until Thoros Nott personally owled Headmistress McGonagall to inform her that Theo wouldn’t be returning that Professor Slughorn summoned Draco. It was a more recent development, but it entailed him leaving Hermione every morning for practise.They still had time to sate each others enormous sexual appetites, but they had little time for anything else. Even though Hermione stopped taking her fertility potion she was still quite agile in bed—which never failed to arouse him in turn. Tinzy recently sent him French spirulina , which he added to her prenatal potions--its purpose was to give her more energy, which translated to sexual energy in Hermiones case.

“I think you may be right.” Hermione smiled while  stretching out like a cat. She peeled off her top and tights and snuggled into him.

He observed her biting her lip before rubbing her oh so soft breasts into his chest eliciting a groan from him. _She's a woman after my own heart._

Shucking off his own clothes, he shimmied down to take one heavy, supple mound into his warm mouth, nipping and suckling on the stiff peaks, making her moan and arch into him. He slid one hand over her hips to splay his fingers over the curve of her round bum. _Merlin, she's delicious._

By the time he slipped inside her, she spasmed around him, crying out her release. He smirked and started moving in and out, then cupped her face to capture her lips.

She clutched at him in turn and peppered his throat in hot kisses, urging him faster. When she keened against him a second time, he found his own release. She closed her eyes and smiled as he ran his fingers over the swell of her belly.

"So did you send out all the invitations then?”

Earlier that week, he came back to the Head Dorms to find her, Anna, and Ginny tying bits of ribbon on fancy pale green envelopes. They had an entire stack of them, addressed to everyone Hermione wanted to invite to the party she was hosting for Quinquatria--Spring Equinox. They had determined that the party should take place at Anjou Manor, mainly because Tinzy had been grumbling about not seeing her mistress in “forevers and evers.”

She opened her eyes to stare into his own silver depths and smiled, then moved to stroke the stubble on his chin.

“Yes. It’s set for later next week, the Sunday. Are you sure you can afford to leave Hogwarts? You do have that Quidditch game coming up.”

“My mother, and your Tinzy will have my head on a platter if I make them cancel. Plus, I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

 

The Great Hall, Spring 2000

Hermione closed her eyes, savouring the fragrant oatmeal. The bowl of the delicious stuff sat in front of her next to a wooden bowl full of thick greek yogurt. A bowl of toasted pecans,  drizzled with maple syrup, also rested on the table. She’d woken up that morning ravenous and achy, which Draco wasn’t able to sate—even in the bathtub full of steamy hot water and jasmine oil. She spent a good hour in that tub, with her head tipped back in ecstasy as Draco suckled from her breasts—they were especially sensitive lately. But afterward, when he had left to meet Professor Slughorn, she was still feeling a tad off. It wasn’t until she sat down with the Daily Prophet and tucked into a bowl of oatmeal that she felt better. Merlin, but it was delicious—especially when she sprinkled brown sugar on it. She was already on her second bowl, but she couldn’t help herself. She wondered idly if others would start to notice either how much she was eating or her protruding belly, which was quite visible under her robes. When she opened her eyes, she saw Anna smiling at her and Ginny looking disconcerted.

“Merlin, Hermione, it can’t be that good. How many bowls have you had?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and rubbed her gently rounded belly. “I can’t help it if I’m hungry! I’ve been running around a lot lately.”

Anna laughed outright and leaned forward. “Have you now? You know, Gin, our Hermione here hasn’t told us what happened when she went to the hospital wing. Caught a bug, darling?”

Ginny squinted at her then turned suspicious eyes onto Hermione. “What kind of bug? I was wondering a bit about that. Does it have anything to do with the party you’re having at Anjou Manor? Which, by the way, I’m beyond excited to finally see!” 

Hermione looked at the girls and bit her lip. She hadn’t told them yet. She wanted to surprise them, along with the other guests, at Anjou Manor this upcoming Sunday. Draco hadn’t even told Blaise or any of his mates on the Slytherin Quidditch Team. These girls were also her best friends. However, Draco had specifically asked her not to tell anyone yet. He didn’t want the news breaking in the rumor mills of Hogwarts. Even though she hated keeping things from Anna and Ginny, she knew sometimes Anna couldn’t help herself.

“You’ll find out soon! I promise.” Owls swept in the nearby window, saving her from further explanation. “Oh look! The post is arriving!”

“I swear to Merlin that she plans this somehow,” Anna whispered to Ginny, rolling her eyes.

Hermione snickered but started as a brown envelope landed in her lap. Frowning, she opened the seal and unfolded a sepia-stained piece of parchment and read:

 

* * *

 

Bone Residence

29 Selsey Avenue

Portsmouth

England

 

‘Mione,

 

I got your invitation a few days ago. I was out fishing with Susan when I got it, and we’re both humbled that you thought to invite us. Su won’t be able to make it, and I recently got a job at the Ministry of Magic in the Department of Oceans & Fishery. It's a recent development. I told you in a previous letter that I've been working for a private company based in Scotland. But Susan's mum, Mrs. Bones, works for the Ministry and she pulled some strings to get me a job there.

 

It requires me to be on a boat all the time. It’s bloody amazing, ‘Mione! I've been doing the wildest things! I can't really tell you what since its confidential Ministry business, but I don't regret not going for that Auror job.

 

I did want to say congratulations—I read all your former letters and Su has a subscription to the London Daily Prophet. I was a bit surprised that you’ve given the ferret a chance. I didn't even knew you liked him. I also wanted to thank you for breaking things off with me last year. I had it in my mind that we would make a good couple because you were the first girl I loved. It wasn’t until I met Su that I fully realized what love meant. Anyways, I reckon you'll find it eventually. I’m sorry that I won't be able to make your party. Say hi to the ferret for me!

 

Give everyone my best,

 

Ron

* * *

 

Hermione immediately thought, _tosser_ , before she looked up at Ginny, who just popped a spoon of porridge into her mouth.

“Did you know that Ronald got a job at the Ministry? It says here that Susan`s mum got it for him.”

Hermione looked up as Ginny snatched the letter from her. She watched emotion cloud Ginny's face as she read the letter. Earlier last year when she broke things off with Ron, he left. He didn't tell anyone where he was going apart from Arthur, who had apparently gotten up to use the loo as Ron was leaving. Arthur told the rest of the Weasley clan that Ron had taken a fishing job in Portsmouth. Everyone was baffled, including Hermione, who never took Ron for a fishing man. But Ginny took it the hardest. She had been especially close to Ron during the past few months, leaning on him since Fred’s death. Hermione knew Ginny was hoping to see Ron at least at the upcoming party.

“It's okay, Ginny. At least he has a legitimate excuse.”

Hermione flinched when Ginny turned angry eyes on her to retort, “It's a farce. You know this letter is utter bollocks. He loved you, Hermione, and he left because you broke his heart. Please don't misunderstand. It's not your fault; I know your heart wasn’t in it, but my dimwit of a brother didn’t deal with it properly. He ran. He’s a bloody coward and is yet again running away rather than facing things head on.

Do you know that Mum cried for weeks after he left? He didn't even write. Dad knew where he was staying so Mum’s been sending him letters. Mostly pleas to come round for dinner or even to have her and Dad over, just to see him. But it's always been excuse after excuse. First, he was sick. Then he had to sail over to Clare for an overnight job. Then he was called into the Ministry. We didn't even know he started dating Susan until Percy brought it up at dinner one night. He saw Ron and Susan having lunch in London with her parents. He was so close but couldn't deign to visit his own family. I've had enough.”

Ginny stood up, face flushed, and gathered her things to spin around and march up to Headmistress McGonagall at the head table. Hermione looked at Anna, who turned amused eyes back at her. This had been building for some time. Ginny was finally going to see Ron and wring his bloody neck.

“This will certainly be interesting,” Anna mused.

Hermione grimaced before her stomach rumbled. Laying a hand on her belly, she turned her attention back to her bowl of yogurt and blueberries. _My appetite is bloody growing by the day._

 

Advanced Transfiguration, Spring 2000

Hermione sat next to Anna, watching as Professor Ames, the new Transfiguration Professor, demonstrated how to summon a Patronus charm. He was a very spritely man, with large, pale gold eyes and tawny hair. He also wore a ring on his left ear, much like Bill Weasley used to. However, he was dressed impeccably, which gave off the impression that he thought quite a lot of himself. That, or he didn't exactly care for witches’ attention more than he did for wizards’.

“Now, this charm is especially hard to cast. However, I have reason to believe some of you are very familiar with it. Can anyone demonstrate?”

Anna pushed Hermione upwards, who sputtered and looked down at her in astonishment and irritation.

“Ah! The famous brain of the Golden Trio! Excellent! Please proceed, Miss Granger.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and summoned the happiest memory she could think of and intoned, “Expecto Patronum.”

Everyone in the classroom stilled as Hermione's arctic blue fox materialized. It was truly a thing of beauty. It had large white eyes, pointy pale blue ears and a demure looking snout. Its coat was a glossy pale blue and seemed to glow under the point of her wand.

It looked around the classroom once then sat on its haunches and quirked its head at her. She conjured a ball of light and watched the fox bounce after it as Professor Ames started clapping. The rest of the class joined in applause, and a few students even got up to inspect the sleek blue fox.

From across the classroom she noticed that Blaise stilled and squinted at her Patronus.She lifted her eyebrows at Draco in amusement, who had leaned forward in his seat to stare, too.

“Isn't that the shape your Patronus takes, mate?”

Draco nodded once, his eyes still trained on the unmistakable arctic fox. He sat back and folded his arms to catch Hermione's smirk.

That's rare. You know what that means right? Her magical core has bound itself to yours. Your magic is virtually the same.”

Draco whipped his head to Blaise to scrutinize him. He saw no deceit or trick there, just pure shock and awe.

“Hermione's done research. She didn't find that in any of the books from her Manor,” Draco whispered back.

Blaise rolled his eyes. “Not everything is bound in paper, mate. I know about Patronuses from my family records. My great-grandfather and great-grandmother had matching Patronuses too. They consulted a seer, and she confirmed what I just told you. But, from my perspective, it looks like you and Hermione Anjou share more than just Patronuses.”

Draco followed Blaise’s eyes to Hermione, who had taken to unbuttoning her cloak and was fanning herself lightly in a shady corner. She was wearing one of those button-down Henleys, this time in lavender. Her belly wasn't exactly jutting out at an angle as it had a couple nights ago, but it was still defined through than thin shirt.

“Not a word,” Draco replied, shooting his friend a short, but meaningful glare, imploring him to keep it secret.

Blaise lifted his hands up and chucked. “Congratulations, mate! But I kind of guessed when she got sick because of my coffee. My cousin Alessandra is expecting too and can't stomach the smell of coffee either. But that was fast! You only just got engaged last Yule! The old Pureblood biddies won't be able to help themselves. Do your parents know?”

Draco cast furtive looks around the classroom to see if anyone caught onto what they were discussing. His eyes met Hermione's across the room, and motioned for her to cover up her belly. She visibly huffed and began buttoning up her cloak. He turned to Blaise again and nodded.

“Yes. Mother’s over the bloody moon. Father’s just relieved that we’ve made a dent in the Blood Pact.”

Blaise had been one of the first of his friends he told about Hermione. When he was summoned back to Malfoy Manor, both Blaise and Rolf accompanied him. The portrait of his grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy, had told him to start pursuing “the Anjou girl.” His parents explained about the Blood Pact and that Hermione Granger was the aforementioned Anjou girl. He was overwhelmed and needed to tell someone, so he told Rolf and Blaise. At the time, Blaise was uncertain at how the events would turn out. Everyone knew Hermione Granger was a witch to be reckoned with. Not to mention she was with Theo Nott at the time. Even Rolf was concerned for him—-five heirs in 6 years was a bit of a stretch, but fate had a way of working things out.

“Well, does this upcoming party have anything to do with this?”

Draco laughed and quipped, “Nothing gets by you, does it, mate?

He then turned his attention back to Hermione, who was scribbling on some bits of parchment. He would have to tell her about Blaise. She wouldn’t be happy, of that he was certain, but people would start finding out soon. Her belly was growing by the week and once they broke the news to their family and friends, he had no doubt all of Hogwarts would know their news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou to Chanda Williams & Naarna for reviewing this chapter!


	16. Quinquatria

Anjou Manor, Spring 2000

Anjou Manor was dressed for a party. Draco breathed in the pine and geranium oils that wafted from various Muggle diffusers. The azure silk papered walls looked lovely and bunches of blue hydrangeas hung decoratively around the copper chandeliers.

Copper pots of lavender stood on every glossy surface, each pot wrapped in azure ribbon. Tinzy was in her element, darting about tucking clippings of african violets everywhere. The curtains—a white gold lace, coupled with the cream colored furniture and copper fixtures gave the Manor a dainty, lushly female feel. Various portraits hung on the wall, some featuring ebony-haired women holding flowers, others of girls dressed in frilly pinafores gathered by Anjou lake. The paintings weren’t animate, he knew, as they featured all the previous Anjou heiress’s—squibs.

Nevertheless, they were well rendered, and despite its non-magical occupants, the Manor exuded pure blood wealth. He imagined that, when Eliza Anjou bore her squib daughter she left Wizarding London and came here, to her family home in Caille. He looked around, at the gilt mirrors and pretty white brick fireplaces veined in gold, and wondered if Hermione had a hand in changing any of the décor. Sure enough he spotted a few white stone glass-encased bookcases with Muggle books: Jane Austen, Virginia Woolf, Oscar Wilde.

Walking on, he studied one more painting on the wall, one featuring another ebony-haired woman with large blue eyes holding a tiny Hermione. Even as a child she simply glowed, with her golden brown curly hair glinting in the sun. The amber eyes she evidentially inherited from her father were crinkled in laughter. She wore a little dress and clasped a few sunflowers in her hand, unaware of her heritage. He knew from his conversation with Hermione a few weeks ago that her mother never spoke of her heritage, nor disclosed any of it at Richard Grangers behest. Draco did some digging and found out quite a lot about Hermione’s parents, via the memories of Shirley Anjou--who sent her memories to the Ministry after her death for archive purposes. Helen Anjou went to Oxford to study English and met Richard Granger there. Richard Granger was also a squib, but he didn’t believe  nor advertise it. His own family hailed from Madrid, Spain. He applied to Oxford and got into the Medical Program with designs, Draco mused, to become an Orthodontist--a Muggle word for an Oral Healer.He met Helen Anjou there and fell in love, and evidentally learned she was a Squib too. Helen Anjou had been raised knowing her ancestry, having her grandmother most likely openly speak of it. But Draco imagined there was pain for her there, as her parents had passed around years prior due to a car crash. 

She seemed to want to move away from all things magical it as much as Richard did. So, according to his research, she moved out of Anjou Manor forsaking her heritage and all that came with it. She was quite fond of her grandmother so she still maintained contact there, but Richard considered her to be a raving lunatic so Helen kept her correspondences secret. When they had Hermione, they raised her as a Muggle child—removed from all things magical, until Hermione Granger started demonstrating she was anything but a Muggle child. Of course Helen and Richard thought nothing of it, citing circumstance and coincidence. Even when Hermione got her Hogwarts letter, they chose not to tell her of their heritage—for reasons beyond Draco.

As he continued walking, he also took notice of the plush white fur throws, the velvety china-blue carpets, pale blue stone vases and copper candelabras and grimaced. They may not be living in Malfoy Manor, but he knew his mother had her hand in this line of decor. Hermione, he knew, could be feminine, but that didn’t extend to old-world pureblood accents. He turned and squinted suddenly at a portrait of a bouquet of roses. He could’ve sworn he saw a woman there for a second, one with ebony curls and bright blue eyes.

“Draco! There you are! Finished nosing around have you?” Hermione asked, gliding towards him.

He turned to her and smiled at how pretty she looked. She wore a pale blue satin dress that pooled around her baby bump. It had an off-shoulder neckline but flowed over her body like water.

“I have! This place is just as large as Malfoy Manor, but it's different.”

“If by different you mean fanciful, I completely agree. Tinzy is to blame for that, she started working on the nursery and insisted on papering the room in goblin gold.” Hermione laughed, moving to wrap her arms around his waist and kiss him.

“Goblin-gold? Just how wealthy are you?.”

She laughed again and kissed him on the nose. “Don't you worry about that. Lets just say that the Anjous made some wise investments . But, we can discuss that later—our guests have started to arrive!”

 

Anjou Ballroom, Spring 2000 

Harry stood off to the side with his fiancé Azalea, both were awestruck as they took in Anjou Manor. When Hermione sent him an invitation requesting his and Azalea’s presence, he immediately sent his response. The Manor was everything Hermione described it as in her letters to him—large, beautiful and romantic.

The ballroom itself was domed and made up entirely of glass and copper so that the lake surrounded them, and the floors were a glossy azure marble. The evening sun sent ribbons of light across the floor, and the candles and flowers only added to the poetry of it all.

When he saw her enter the ballroom with Draco, with her small hand on the tiny swell of her belly, he smiled widely. She definitely invited him and Azalea here for reasons beyond showing off Anjou Manor.

He moved to her instantly to cup her face and kiss her forehead,“ I’m so happy for you, ‘Mione.”

Hermione turned scolding eyes on Draco. “ I knew this dress would be a giveaway. Does everyone know?”

Harry laughed. “ Hermione not everyone here is your best friend and knows how you move. Most of these people here--apart from a few Hogwarts students, don’t know what’s going on. I also think Narcissa Malfoy is signalling you over.” He quickly kissed her on the cheek and motioned Azalea to follow him over to a round, silk covered table.

Hermione turned to meet Narcissa’s eye, and picked up her skirts to glide over to the centre of the ballroom with Draco. Trays of sparkling cider were passed around, and each guest took one and looked at Narcissa--resplendent in ecru silk.

Ginny had just arrived, looked quite alluring in a plum coloured satin, strappy dress. As she walked towards Anna, her eyes flickered over to Harry and Azalea.

Hermione watched the witch’s face flame, but she kept walking. Nearby, Hermione observed Blaise pause in his conversation with Rolf Scamander, to stare at Ginny. Hermione made two mental notes, one being to talk to Ginny about Harry and Azalea. Two, to discuss Blaise’s blatant attraction towards her. Even before today she had observed Blaise staring casually at Ginny, and even flirting with her on the Quidditch pitch. Blaise played Beater for Slytherin House—a recent development that Draco implemented. But, Ginny, as usual, seemed oblivious to Blaise, and appeared to be discussing something quietly with Anna, as her eyes flickered back towards Harry. Hermione hazarded a guess that they were discussing Azalea, who at the moment, had her hands on Harry’s face.

They were certainly a beautiful couple. Harry, with his dark hair and green eyes complimented Azaleas blue-black hair and violet eyes. She was certainly mesmerizing in her lavender silk dress and white heels. Her gleaming hair was braided into a crown on top of her head, and she had that fragile, porcelain white-skin that Hermione's mother was prized for. Love lept from both their eyes when they looked at each other, and Hermione knew their personalities also corresponded nicely. Azalea was soft-spoken, gentle and aristocratic in character. Harry always yearned for that quintessential girliness and polish in a partner and privately told her that Ginny wasn’t the one for him. The Weasleys in general where all similar--in some degree both in character and in looks. Ron was the most stubborn on them all, and Hermione wondered if he was running late.

Apparently Ginny had had some very strong words with Ron, but it had been Susan who managed to convince him to come out. Ginny relayed this all in a letter, which Hermione received when her and Draco floo’d to Anjou Manor. Hermione turned to survey the rest of the guests, her eyes lighting on several extremely handsome people.

Narcissa had invited some of the Malfoy’s extended family, which included Arielle and her mother and father—both blonde and beautiful. There was also a tall, very attractive man with ruddy brown hair that had his eyes fixated on Luna Lovegood, who had on a dress the colour of moonbeams. She had wildflowers in her hair, and she was holding the capable hand of Draco's friend, Rolf Scamander.

Turning her face to Draco, she smiled and blushed prettily when she caught his eyes focused on the tips of breasts. She wasn't wearing a bra, and never needed one before due to her breasts being on the smaller side. However, pregnancy meant her breasts were now larger, and infinitely more responsive. Given the thin satin of her dress, she knew that Draco could see her nipples very clearly.

“Sickle for your thoughts?” she teased.

His eyes lingered for a full moment longer before moving up to meet hers. He breathed in her ear. “Have I mentioned how much I fancy those tits of yours?”

She rubbed her thighs together, fluttering her eyelashes at him as she recalled how often he proved that to her her since Flooing to Anjou Manor. Every morning he insisted on eating his breakfast—Greek yogurt with mixed berries, from her breasts. She further obliged him by foregoing clothing entirely--prompting him to carry over the habit to lunch and dinner. Fortunately their meals had remained on the tepid side, but walking around in the nude was oddly liberating, addicting and came with perks. For instance, she lost count of how often he brought her to orgasm via breast stimulation, for another she loved how easy it was to coax him into doing her bidding--lower-back rubs, shoulder massages, foot rubs.

“Tinzy made a batch of her rice pudding, how about you show me just how much later?”

Draco gathered her close to kiss her in response, slowly, hotly and slid his hands up to palm her breasts.

“Oi! Wait till the party's over!” Harry laughed from his seat, Azalea hushed him and mouthed an apology. Draco scowled and Hermione giggled into her hands before moving out of Draco’s embrace to walk a bit more around the ballroom.

Lucius also stood nearby holding a snifter of ale with several of his closest mates. Their wives had come too to take part in the celebrations, and we're looking very impressively around the ballroom. Hermione watched Lucius for a moment before he turned to meet Narcissas eyes.

As Lucius did during Yule, Narcissa pointed her wand to her throat and addressed the crowd in a lilting soprano.

“Thank You for coming today. I assume most of you are wondering why we’ve invited you on this sacred holiday. Quinquatria was first celebrated in Wizarding Italy thousands of years ago to celebrate the rites of spring. Spring denotes renewal and birth of a new season and so it’s fitting that on this occasion we celebrate a new generation of Malfoys. My future daughter-in-law Hermione and my son Draco are expecting. Please lift up your drinks in a toast to them.”  Narcissa caught Hermione’s eye at that, and Hermione smiled back. Hermione didn’t want to tell anyone about the triplets just yet, as she was still in her first trimester.

Everyone lifted their flutes and some clapped while others whistled, the loudest being Harry, who even stomped his foot.

Hermione smiled widely around as guests moved forward to personally congratulate her and wish her well. When Narcissa signalled Tinzy to serve tea, Luna moved towards her, to kiss her on both cheeks and beam.

“You look wonderful Hermione, your face is glowing—I suppose it's all the sex. There's a lot of untapped magic there,” she whispered dreamily.

Hermione reddened. Luna was once again on the ball—she had been having a lot of sex, and it was all kinds of magic. Draco made her feel wild, inhibited and wanton despite being pregnant.

* * *

_Hermione`s Suite, Anjou Manor Spring 2000_

_She opened her eyes slowly_   _. She had gone to bed earlier on but was just having the most erotic dream. Sitting up, she ran her fingers through her disheveled curls and squinted at Draco—he was stirring the contents of a bubbling potion in a small silver cauldron, using a rosewood table that Tinzy had brought up for him earlier that day. The room was dark except for the fire that roared at the hearth in the room. The lace curtains were drawn up against the moonlight, but a sliver spilled onto the bed._

_Casting her eyes to the clock, she noted the hour, it was just after 2 a.m. and he was still up  with those potions of his. She moved the sheets off of her to get off the bed and pad over to him._

“ _Shouldn't you be sleeping, witch?_ ”  _he murmured with his back to her._

_She wrapped her arms around his middle and pressed herself to his naked back. He groaned and turned to kiss her as he ran his hands over her naked limbs. When he palmed her breasts she smiled, and leaned into his touch. He turned quickly to set a glass dome over the potion then turned back to hoist her up, making her wrap her legs around his waist. When he took one rosy peak into his mouth she threw her head back and mewled with pleasure. She knew every woman had a particular way they enjoyed being pleasured over others. Anna for example told her she loved when Oliver took her from behind. Her Muggle friend Ciara told her she particularly loved it when her boyfriend, Beau, went down on her. Hermione loved when Draco played with her breasts--especially now that they were so responsive, and weighty. She knew without a doubt that he shared her feelings, considering his more recent morning ritual._

 “ _Shall I ravish you then?_ ”  _he asked, walking forward to lay her back on their large bed._

  _She moaned loudly when he began plucking on her nipples, and replied breathily,  “yes, please.”_

* * *

 “Yes, its also very stress relieving. Fortune smiles on the witch who has it often” Luna smiled, her gaze drifting.

Hermione blinked and readjusted her dress, Merlin only knew how many guests could see how aroused she was. She couldn't wait until this bloody party was over so she could let Draco have at her. She had been feeling especially needy today, and this dress needed to come off--she wasn't wearing knickers either. Draco was definitely privy to that by the red tinge to his face--his hand was sliding lower and lower still along the curve of her bum. However, Luna had just spotted Rolf and waved him over. 

Draco sent her one heated look before smiling winningly at his friend.“Scamander, you never told me how you met Lovegood here?”

“We met a couple of months ago at a dragon egg hatching party. Daddy and I were invited by Newt Scamander, Rolf’s grandfather. He’s quite charming really and introduced me and Daddy to Rolf. There’s quite the family resemblance there,” Luna replied as Rolf kissed her on the cheek.

Hermione giggled at that then grew silent as Ron approached them with Susan Bones, who upon closer examination, was a lot rounder than the last time Hermione saw her. She had a sneaking suspicion the former Ravenclaw-turned Mind-Healer had some news of her own to impart.

“Hello ‘Mione, Malfoy, “ he grunted, his face going puce.

Ginny and Blaise—who had his eyes on her bum even now, appeared in a wink. Luna and Rolf stood behind them in a show of cosolidarity.

“I’ve been busy in Portsmouth, but not so busy to have kept up with the Daily Prophet and your letters. So, you’re a Pureblood now, yeah?” Ron asked shiftily, lifting one eyebrow up. He turned to Susan, who was looking at him incredulously. “Is that why you had my sister drag us here? To gloat that you finally seduced the great bouncing ferret? I knew you always had a thing for him, used to go on and on about him you did.You left me and messed everything up, because you weren't ready for a commitment yet here you are swollen with his kits. How many do you have in there anyways, five?”

Ginny stepped in quickly between a outraged looking Hermione and a jealous looking Ron, and placed one hand between the both of them.

“This isn’t what I had in mind when I asked you to talk to Hermione, Ronald. I thought you came to make amends.” Ginny bit out, face colouring with anger.

Susan nodded and turned furious eyes to her boyfriend. “ I did too. Ronald, why are you acting this way, saying these things? If I didn't know any better I'd think you were jealous. If you are, this is neither the time nor the place for your bloody theatrics. Trust me, we will be discussing this when we get back. In. Minute. Detail. This is Hermione and Draco's day not yours, so shut that mouth of yours before you spout anymore verbal vomit.” She then turned to Hermione to apologize, “ I’m sorry, Hermione. He had a bit of Firewhiskey to settle his nerves, and I believe it went to his head. Congratulations you two really, and please accept my humble apology.”

By this point Ron’s was breathing hard, as he was about to angrily retort when a hand clamped on his shoulder.

“I think you should listen to your girlfriend, Ron. Hermione, don't listen to a word from this tosser,” Harry said, his green eyes flashing angrily at Ron.

Ron shrugged him off and turned as Susan angrily steered him away, while she laid one hand on her belly. Suspicions confirmed, Hermione looked to Ginny, who seemed to read the question in her friend's eyes and nodded waspishly.

“Ron was always a jealous sort,” Luna murmured, walking forward to lay a cool hand on Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione turned to Draco.“Today is a happy day. Don't listen to anything he said, I love you and that`s all that matters.”

As soon as she said it she knew she meant it. Then it was as if all the world disappeared around them, all her friends and extended family were nonexistent except for Draco.

He cupped her face, and kissed her heatedly on her lips. Finally, she knew what it was to love someone. It wasn’t just a friendship graduated or senseless shagging, it was a partnership, a knowing. It was everything and nothing she’d ever known. Yes, the blood magic played a hand in their relationship, but flowers still bloomed in isolation.  She never  had to work to find things in common with him, or have to hold herself back in case she offended him. She had long sweeping conversations with him, and he matched her every spar. When they made love it wasn’t depraved and animalistic in tone. Shagging wasn’t the base of their relationship. They made love, he was sensuous and attentive. He held her closely, and made sure she knew he loved her every time he kissed her.

“I think that’s apparent,“ Harry chuckled, gesturing to Hermione’s slightly swelled stomach, effectively breaking the bubble around Hermione and Draco.

Ginny bit her lip and watched Ron and Susan disappear into the floo. She turned back and frowned at Hermione. “ I’m sorry this is all my fault. I honestly thought having him face reality would make him see reason. I was obviously wrong, but I’m hoping Mum and Dad will be able to talk some sense into him. That’s where they went I assume; Mum asked him to come to the Burrow after this so she could formally meet Susan. However, I don’t imagine Susan is particularly happy with him right now. I really am sorry, Hermione.”

“It’s not your fault, Gin; I’m just frustrated with him is all. He never understood why things didn’t develop like they did in his head. On paper him and I worked, but the reality was I needed more,” Hermione replied softly.

Azalea came forward to throw her arms around Hermione and Harry went to Draco—he had been silent this entire time, fists clenched and seething.

“He didn’t deserve you Hermione. I don’t understand why you invited him here, “ Azalea murmured, stroking Hermione’s face.

“He’s my friend, I’ve known him since I was a child. I don’t understand why he can’t face reality,” Hermione shrugged.

“This is our reality now, nothing he or anyone says can change that,” Draco said firmly, placing his hands on the curve Hermione's belly.

“So how far are you along? I didn’t notice that stomach of yours until today, but it looks like you’re easily four to five months,” Ginny asked, as Astoria and Terry wandered over.

Azalea laughed lowly and looked at Ginny. “She certainly holds it well. My name is Azalea by the way, I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself earlier. I’m engaged to Harry.”

She threw a look over her shoulder at Harry, who looked down peevishly and then smiled up at Ginny.

Ginny returned the smile and extended a hand out to Azalea. “ I’m glad to meet you. You're really beautiful.Good work, Potter.”

Harry smiled and turned to a beaming Hermione. “ You are all, but Hermione here is glowing. Really, how far along are you?”

Hermione looked at Draco who nodded before she replied, “Nine weeks, but I’m showing because I’m expecting triplets. Gin, Tori, you haven’t been noticing because of the robes I’ve been wearing.”

Which was true, when she had visited Lucius and Narcissa a few a weeks ago, Narcissa had given her lovely new robes. They were maternity robes, but were whisper thin and made of the finest silk.

Astoria just rolled her eyes at that. “You couldn’t keep your hands off her until the wedding, could you, Draco? But your house-elf did a beautiful job with the blue decorations, it’s truly a spring celebration” She winked at Hermione.

Draco laughed at Hermione who dimpled prettily to respond, “of course he couldn’t. When has Draco Malfoy ever waited for something? And you’re right, Tinzy went above and beyond I think.”

The ballroom was filled with spring flowers and vines twining everywhere. Hydrangeas, African Violets and Baby's Breath were the main ones used. Tall copper candles were placed on various surfaces, and the fireplaces were all lit with pale blue flames.

Harry smiled and looked at Azalea before asking,  “I know it's early, but do you have names picked out?”

Draco looked sideways at Hermione and quipped, “ I think Hermione has something in mind, don't you?”

Hermione smiled slyly before replying,  “ Caelum, our first born will be named Caelum.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou so much to Chanda Williams & Naarna.


	17. Moon Calf's

Nott Manor, Spring 2000

“So, you’re carrying three Malfoy heirs in there, and you’re still shagging like Moon Calf's”,Anna speculated idly. She turned then to lift a brow and asked, “Does being preggo make it better?”

“Exponentially. I`m sensitive everywhere, especially here,” Hermione replied wickedly, smoothing her hands over her breasts. “But, to answer your question, yes we do. I wrote to Arielle, and she said every woman experiences pregnancy differently. In my case, I prefer letting Draco have his way with me all the time.”

Ginny rolled her eyes at her from her spot on the carpet and quipped, “Yes, but shouldn’t you be taking it easy? Didn’t Madam Pomfrey caution you two to slow down in the shagging department?”

Hermione laughed. “If you think Draco hasn’t found a way around that, you clearly don’t know him. He added some herbs into my prenatal potion first thing. They fuel sexual energy as it coats my womb in some sort of protective enchantment. As a result, I`ve been feeling rather agile and limber which translates tastefully in bed with Draco.”

Ginny actually laughed at that. Hermione waggled her eyebrows and looked down at herself, propped up by pillows on her bed. She was getting rather large. She was a tidy 12 weeks now and her belly was growing by the day. But, apart from her belly, she was still slender, athletically toned and strong due to the prenatal yoga she`d been practicing recently. She still chose to forego a bra but stopped sleeping entirely in the nude as much. Sometimes her breasts were too sore, so she wore satin sleepshirts. During the day, she opted for thin, silky shirt-dresses in various shades of purple—magically expanded, to fit across her belly, yet still looked cute.

She sighed and looked toward the windows. It was getting dark, and Draco had promised her he would return soon. He got an owl from Rolf that morning and promptly left. He told her Rolf had been spending quite a bit of time working on Theo`s potions in Scamander Manor, near Oxford. She had an idea Theo would recover soon, so Rolf was working on some recovery tonics with Draco's assistance. Waking up from such a long coma, magical or not, required a lot of medical attention. She didn't know when those tonics would come in handy, but she hoped they would work.

“He’ll be here soon, Hermione. I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” Anna said.

Hermione nodded and yawned widely while stretching out her foot to point and flex. They’d been aching lately; she really needed to stop wearing those stilettos around the castle.

 _“_ Would mistress like a foot rub?” pipped the small voice of a house elf, Gilly.

Hermione groaned and turned to a laughing Ginny and Anna, who said, “I wish my mother would let me have a personal house elf at Hogwarts. You should count yourself lucky.”

“Do you think Gilly would fetch us some chocolate?” Ginny asked innocently, looking at the house elf with large eyes.

“I doubt that`s on your prescribed pregnancy diet Narcissa sent with Gilly,” Anna chimed, looking at her nails.

Ginny laughed at that and said, “I’m surprised she didn't convince you to finish your studies remotely.”

Hermione groaned at that to reply, “She tried. Merlin, but bringing Gilly back with me was the compromise.”

* * *

 

_Anjou Living Room, Quinquatria 2000_

 

_“Hermione, are you quite sure you don't want to stay here with Lucius and me?_

_I don't expect you'll be comfortable going back to Hogwarts. Who will see to your needs?” Narcissa asked as she entered the room. The celebration ended a while ago, and, much to Hermione’s disappointment, Lucius and Narcissa lingered. She had been so looking forward to stripping out of her dress and seducing Draco._

_Hermione looked over at Draco, who was moodily sipping from a snifter of Firewhiskey—he seemed equally putout. Narcissa had brought the former issue up several times now, and it was slowly grating on her nerves._

_Hermione understood where Narcissa was coming from and what she was alluding to. She was concerned for her stress and energy levels while pregnant. However, she had been nipping the former in the bud rather regularly via lots of sex. What Luna said about sex was true; it was a great stress-reliever. However, she wasn't about to tell Narcissa that or even hint towards it. She could only imagine how she would react._

_In regards to the latter, Draco was constantly watching her for any sign of fatigue. He brewed her prenatal potions himself and made sure they were nutrient-rich. He even made sure she ate enough during meals, sitting with her at the Gryffindor table and no one—faculty or student—had questioned that. No one would contest the actions of Hermione Granger, war-hero and best friend to Harry Potter._

_On that front, word had spread like Fiendfyre about his re-entrance into Wizarding England and of his fiancé Azalea Holland. Some students who were invited, such as Astoria Greengrass, took photographs and passed them along. The populous of Hogwarts, however, was especially interested in Azalea. Much to Hermione’s chagrin, many students focused on how opposite Azalea was, in looks, compared to Ginny. She desperately hoped Ginny wouldn’t think too much about it._

_She had even intervened on Ginny's behalf on one occasion, only for Draco to step in and diffuse the argument. He had essentially become her shadow; he even had her sit in the Quidditch stands during practice under a warming and shielding charm. It was for that reason, she mused, that he now looked at his mother with cold fury._

_“What do you reckon I've been doing, Mother? Traipsing about the castle and ignoring Hermione?” he glowered._

_Lucius lifted his head from his novel to level his eyes at his son. “Don’t wet yourself, Draco. Your mother is merely concerned for how Hermione will fare at Hogwarts, given her current condition. You've seen what's happened there in the past several years. Hermione carries the future heirs of Malfoy house. Your mother and I are simply worried. We don't want to see anything befall her.”_

_Draco clenched his fists at that. “It won't. She's safe; she's with me; and I’ll worry about her safety. Mother, I understand your concern, I do, but please rest assured we’ll be fine. All you need to do, should you wish, is help us design the nursery at Anjou Manor.”_

_The issue of living at Anjou Manor was another sore point, but Draco made his parents see reason. He needed a home free of residual Dark Magic. Malfoy Manor had been cleansed and purified countless times, but the Malfoys all agreed the children Hermione carried couldn't be exposed to any remnant of Voldemort's rule. Plus, Tinzy had already begun planning the nursery, nattering on and on about various samples of goblin gold._

_“Draco, of course I’ll decorate the nursery for you, but I didn’t intend to question your role in Hermione’s safety. I just know that you have other priorities, such as brewing those tinctures for Mr. Nott. You have Quidditch, and you’re studying for your entrance exam for St. Mungo’s. You can’t possibly watch Hermione every moment of the day,” Narcissa entreated._

_Lucius turned to Narcissa then incredulously and asked, “And how would you do intend to do that, my love? Half the time you’re out running errands or out to tea with Cordelia Avery or Marigold Parkinson.”_

_Narcissa folded her arms neatly in her lap to reply. “I trust Gilly with my life. She took care of Draco when he was an infant.”_

_Hermione found her in finally to interject, “Why not bring him to Hogwarts with me? If he’s primarily a wet-nurse house elf, I`d love to have him.”_

_Draco turned to smile brilliantly at Hermione, before turning to his mother to say, “Fine idea.”_

* * *

“I wish I could be there. Do you know I haven’t been to see Theo once throughout this entire ordeal? What kind of person does that make me?” Hermione implored.

Ginny came over to sit beside Hermione on her bed and took her hand. “First, Anna and I know—Narcissa told us her plan at the party a few days ago. Second, Thoros Nott made it implicitly clear you shouldn’t be there, Hermione. You’re being respectful, and you’re being a good mother-to-be. .”

Just then, an owl flew in with a note tied to its leg before Hermione could react. Anna retrieved the note and fed the owl a treat before handing the note to Hermione.

She took the note and read to look up at the girls to say, “Draco`s on his way to Nott Manor—Theo`s awake.”

 

Nott Manor, Winter Term 2000

 

Looking at her was like looking at the sun. Theo couldn’t look away, couldn’t touch her enough. Her auburn hair was like fire, her green eyes like stars.

“Theo?” the beautiful goddess asked. She was wringing her hands and had been casting looks over her shoulder at the fireplace. When he woke a few hours ago, her face was the first he saw, and his heart leapt towards her. He had all these emotions, of love, joy and lust and they had to be for her. How could they not be? She had the longest, silkiest looking hair. Her face was round but looked like it was carved from ivory, and her lips were a luscious looking red. She had a round, womanly figure and equally round breasts that, he mused, must taste like succulent peaches. For some reason though, when she looked at him, she looked uneasy, as though she was shocked by his attraction to her. He would find a way to show her not to be. She looked at him again and lifted one of her delicate eyebrows in question.

He blinked at her to laugh. “I’m sorry you’re just really distracting sometimes.”

She frowned and turned to bring a man—who just arrived through the fireplace—forward, one with silver hair and handsome grey eyes. “This is my cousin, Draco Malfoy. He’s your friend and has been helping to further your recovery. He's come to see you.”

He smiled and bowed to the man, “It’s nice to see you again, Draco, but I apologize; I don't recall meeting you. My mind has been a tad fuzzy, but my father and Arielle have been helping me adjust. I gather that you were my Healer. Thank you.”

The man smiled weakly at that and replied, “Not technically. I’m still a student but I do aspire to work at St. Mungo’s one day—a hospital for magical maladies in England. But I’m here to also ask if you’ll be joining Arielle in a few weeks. I’m getting married and my bride and I would be honoured if you were to attend. We would have sent you a formal invitation sooner, but we didn’t know you would recover in time.”

Theo looked at Arielle, “If you’ll have me, Arielle, I would love to escort you.”

Theo watched Arielle blush profusely and turn to Draco to reply, “Please tell Hermione we’ll be there. Please let Aunt Narcissa know I’ll be bringing a date. How has Hermione been feeling?”

Draco shook his head, “Not well. She's really upset about not being able to see Theo,” he said, eyeing Theo, who wandered over to a bookcase. Draco turned back to Arielle and continued. “Her energy levels are through the roof. I don't know how she does it. She sleeps a lot but when she's up she can't keep her hands off me. I`m not complaining; I just thought she`d be too tired and sore to do anything.”

Arielle laughed before replying. “I`ll tell you the same thing I told pretty Hermione. Every pregnancy is different, and sex is as natural as the world. The fact that she's so active means she`s healthy, and that's good. Magical pregnancies can be hard on some women, so the fact that this is your only concern is good. Are you still adding the herbs to her prenatal potion?”

Draco blushed a bit in reply. “Yes. It`s the French spirulina that`s increasing her energy. But I'm not going to reduce her dosage—it's doing wonders for her. I’d rather a randy fiancée over an exhausted one. But she`s still in the loo every morning like clockwork, despite my every effort. She also grows more beautiful by the day. You should see her, cousin. She`s so lush, healthy, and fertile-looking.”

Arielle laughed. “What do you expect. She's carrying triplets and 11 weeks pregnant. Aunt Narcissa must be over the moon.”

Draco nodded and grinned, “Mother’s demanding we start coming over as often as we can. Our wedding is in a few weeks which has made her go barmy with all the planning. She`s insisting she do everything, with the help of Hermione's house elf, Tinzy. Hermione is a bit put out by that, but I think she`s secretly relieved to not plan anything.”

Smiling now, Arielle said, “As long as Hermione and you are happy, Draco, that's all that counts.”

Looking at Theo, she fretted. “Are you sure she won't be upset about Theo? I don't want to ruin her day, Draco.”

Draco looked up at Arielle, “You wouldn’t, and I think she’ll be truly happy to have you and Theo there.”

 

Head Girl Quarters, Spring Term 2000  

 

Draco opened her door and stepped in to find her lounging in bed. She wore a pale lavender satin partially unbuttoned sleep shirt so that her belly was on display, and looked utterly alluring. Her long golden legs were crisscrossed and her gleaming curls were draped over one shoulder. She had a romance novel in one hand and a cup of hot tea in another.

Pregnancy suited her; everything about her just deepened from the copper in her hair to the roses in her cheeks.

She carried his heirs and progeny and would carry more in the near future according to Luisa Malfoy. He could hardly wait to be surrounded by the lot of them, teaching his sons to walk, to fly, to brew. Perhaps coaxing Hermione to give him a daughter he could spoil and dote upon. Anjou Manor was certainly large enough for the family he would build with Hermione in the coming years. He would definitely set up a Quidditch Pitch, and he needed to claim a suite specifically for brewing. He would need to talk to Tinzy about that; the house-elf always had the final say in these matters.

Tinzy had been wounded earlier this month when his mother had suggested Gilly accompany Hermione back to Hogwarts. She agreed though that Gilly was better suited, as she was primarily a wet-nurse house elf. He wouldn`t dream to try to understand the hierarchy of house elves, but Tinzy was satisfied that she got to decorate the nursery. It was twice the size of the suite he would share with Hermione. It would be papered with goblin gold silk, and his mother was currently sourcing hand-carved pinewood cradles to put in the room. Tinzy and his mother were also looking into blue fox fur throws, to honour his and Hermione's Patronuses.

“Draco, you're back! How is he?” she asked sitting up and jarring him out of his thoughts.

He crossed to her and sat on the bed to reply. “He’s well. He’s on a lot of potions, and it’ll take a lot of time and effort but he’ll recover. Arielle being with him will help speed along the process.”

Hermione smiled and smoothed her hand over her belly to say, “Good, that’s good. I’m so relieved Draco. I hated thinking he was in that coma while I was, while I’m—”

“Pregnant?” he choked. “You’re happy, and you’re thriving, and that’s what Theo’s goal was—I’m assuming. He wanted you to be happy, and I’d say you are.” He smiled softly laying a hand on her belly.

She laid her hand on top of his and nodded. “More than I hoped to be.”

He smiled then. “And he is too, now that he has Arielle.”

She frowned at him. “What do you mean, as his healer?”

He shook his head and looked amused for a split second. “I had a theory a while back. Remember when you told me that Luisa said he would be in a coma until he forgot about blood magic, me, and his feelings towards you? Well those feelings can’t have disappeared. There’s no spell that could erase emotion. When he woke up, I wondered if those feelings would be redirected somehow, and they were.”

“So, he’s in love with her now, isn’t he?” she asked shrewdly, looking at her hands.

He searched her face, looking for any sign of jealousy. He found none, but he knew she was still mulling the information over in her curly head.

 

“He’s happy though—you said, right? That’s all that matters. I just want him to be happy, and he seems to be,” she said, bringing the cup of tea to her lips to sip.

 

He smiled slowly, “Yes he is. But love, are you ok with this? I know how much Theo meant to you.” He reached out to stroke her cheek with the backs of his knuckles and continued. “You were happy with him, in a way. Certainly more confident than you ever were or that I’ve ever seen you; being with him changed you. You seemed wilder, inhibited, free—especially with the way you carried about in those high heels and dresses. I hope you know how sexy you are to me, pregnant or not.”

 

She turned to set her cup of tea down, pick up her wand and give it a flick. All the candles in her room—fat yellow ones—ignited to perfume the air with honeysuckle. With a second flick, her lavender sleep shirt floated away, leaving her bare and flushed under his hot gaze.

 

Picking up his hands to place them on her breasts, she whispered, “You make me feel wild, inhibited and free every moment of everyday. I’ll gladly wear those dresses for you and lock myself in the bedroom with you all day if it pleases you. But Draco, I don’t just burn for you. You make me feel loved, and honoured—not just in body, but in soul. You’ve given me more than passion; you`ve given me children and a future with you.”

 

He quickly shrugged out of his clothes to hoist her up and onto him, and when she was fully seated, they both closed their eyes with pleasure. He bent his head to kiss her belly and glide his hands over the smooth expanse of it. When she rocked against him and found a rhythm he eased back to watch her face. They had a healthy, active sex life and although he was wary at first continuing that when she became pregnant, he couldn't deny her anything. His talk with Arielle eased all guilty misgivings he had; she was right that sex was natural.

 

He made sure her prenatal potions were strong, and he was very in tune with her, always watching for cues. He always watched her, in and out of the bedroom, for signs of fatigue or discomfort. But she was resilient, strong and as vibrant as she ever was, despite how early she went to sleep. She took her prenatal potions religiously and had no qualms asking him to rub her feet, or massage her shoulders. She also took long, oil-laced baths in the morning—after her bouts of morning sickness. If her pregnancy meant an increased sex drive, he wouldn't object, but simply enjoy it, as he imagined any other bloke righteously would.

“Am I too heavy?”  
  
  
“Not in the slightest,” he replied, watching her throw her head back. She was so lovely, with her long golden brown curls and lightly tanned skin. Her heart-shaped face was delicate with fine bone structure. She was still quite petite at 11 weeks, but seeing her belly round with his children made him more aroused than ever.  


“I think I may keep you this way,” he murmured against her breast, placing hot kisses under their slopes.  


“I may let you,” she panted.  


When she cried out her orgasm, he clutched her to him and quickly found his own.  


Kissing her forehead, he stretched out beside her, and watched the fire at her hearth flicker and dance. When she curled into him he asked again, “Are you sure you’re not upset?”  


“I’m more relieved to be quite honest,” she replied in a whisper.  


He wrapped a lock of her curls around his finger to ask, “Why relieved?”  


She tipped her head up to look at him. “Because I’m irrevocably in love with you, and you make me happy, so I felt guilty because Theo wasn't.  Now that he’s awake and enamored with your cousin, he’s happy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou so much to my friend/guest editor Laura & Chanda Williams


	18. A Malfoy Wedding

Anjou Manor, Beltane

“Draco! What are you doing here! You know very well you should be outside with your father and Blaise getting ready,” Narcissa shrieked from the staircase, her heels click-clacking as she descended.

Draco rolled his eyes. “I don’t understand why I can’t put my robes on inside like a normal wizard. Instead, I have to go outside like a heathen and continue that absurd tradition of not seeing the bride before the wedding. Unless you’re unaware mother, Hermione is nearing her second trimester of pregnancy. I think that tradition is moot at this point,” he quipped snidely, folding his arms.

Narcissa regarded him coolly for a moment before replying, “You’ll do this for Hermione. It means a lot to her, and it’s a day she’ll remember for the rest of her life.”

Draco’s rebuke died instantly, and he turned on his heel to go outside.

Flowers grew wildly in abundance in every shade of blue imaginable. As a child, his mother taught him all about flowers and their meaning, so he was able to recognize them all scattered about him. Blue iris, blue orchids, and hyacinths were to his left. Hydrangeas, perennials, columbine, morning glory vines were on his right. Behind him were Forget-me-nots, ceratostigma, lobelia, campanula, and mertensia. A beautiful ornate, white gate guarded the entrance to where their wedding would take place.

Opening it, he strode down a cobblestone path that glinted with sapphires and tanzanites that led up to the pale blue tent. He turned back momentarily and looked around. 

Chairs were arranged all along the path, constructed entirely of green vines and copper. Tiny fairies hovered over all the flowers, and three large cellos were set up in the front against three additional chairs. Altogether it looked like a scene from out of a Hans Christensen Fairytale—a Muggle author Hermione had recently introduced him to. 

Ducking under the flap he saw his father, dressed like he was attending a royal wedding—royal blue silk robes and all. Blaise and Rolf, however, both wore matching grins and tailored black dress robes.

“You ready, mate? Today is the first day of the rest of your life with that sexy witch of yours,” Blaise said.

Draco cracked a smile and looked at his father, who turned amused eyes onto Blaise. “Mr. Zabini please refrain from objectifying my future daughter-in-law. Unless you’re unaware, she’s also carrying Draco’s heirs, so that particular adjective is inappropriate,” Lucius said, shaking his head.

Draco laughed and looked between Rolf and Blaise. “Thanks for being here; it means a lot. Have you seen Potter?”

“I think he’s with your luscious witch,” Blaise replied, waggling his eyebrows making Lucius snort from where he stood.

Draco walked over to the full-length mirror, and appraised the way his dress robes shimmered on, thin navy cashmere robes lined in white gold. As simple as that, he thought, then looked up across at Anjou Manor where he imagined Hermione was having an entirely different experience.

 

Marriage Suite, Beltane

Hermione stood in front of the golden floor-length mirror and just stared. Her hair was held to the side with a sapphire-inlaid comb spilling over her shoulder in glossy waves. The wedding frock she wore was made entirely of azure silk. Quartz buttons marched down the back, and white lace frothed at the front. Quartz beadings were sewn into the skirts and low neckline. She knew her stomach would be visible because of the nature of the silk, but this was the wedding gown of her dreams.

Harry was perched by the window sill and appeared to be scanning the guests that Hermione knew were starting to arrive. She knew he was most likely keeping an eye out for Azalea, who had officially moved to England but needed to register her wand with the British Ministry of Magic first.Harry had Flooed to England earlier that week, or so he told her, and kept himself busy by setting up Potter Manor.

Anna and Ginny were both seated prettily on a loveseat that backed the bed. They both had glossy Muggle and Wizard fashion magazines on their laps. Hermione chose silver-sequined gowns for them both, which complimented both of their varying colourings.

Narcissa stood closest to her, arranging her sleeves and making sure all her buttons were secure. Hermione knew that she was doing this for two reasons. The first being that she wanted to be there for Hermione, where her own mother could not be. The second being that there were very ancient pureblood customs to adhere to.

Blood Magic required evidence of an obligation being met, so it literally had to be invoked. According to her research, it would manifest itself into a form that could attest to or reject the offering. She didn’t know exactly how or what would happen, as Blood Magic wedding ceremonies differed from ceremony to ceremony. She did know that a priestess from Avalon College had been contracted to invoke the blood magic. Hermione studied Narcissa’s reflection in the mirror and noted the anxiety there.

“Narcissa, it’ll be okay. I have no doubt that everything will go smoothly,”  Hermione whispered.

Narcissa turned her dark eyes onto Hermione and smiled, then stepped forward to cup her cheek. “ I’m truly sorry for what happened, and that I never spoke of it. I just never knew how to bring it up.”

Hermione knew instantly what Narcissa was talking about and put her hand on hers. “The moment you saved Harry, all was forgiven.”

Harry looked up and into Hermione’s bright eyes and smiled back before asking, “How far along are you now, ‘Mione?”

At that, Ginny came over to cluck her tongue and stare at Hermione’s breasts, “However far along she is, she looks bloody amazing. Pregnancy really agrees with you. Is he still using those oils on them after—?” Ginny trailed off.

Harry turned curious eyes on Ginny to ask, “What oils?”

Hermione just smoothed a hand over her stomach and continued to study the bedroom Narcissa helped her redecorate. Last evening when Draco Flooed her to Anjou Manor, Narcissa Apparated in with a fleet of French interior decorators. Anjou Manor, while already luxurious, now shone like a polished gem.  The wedding suite—a room located in the tower of the manor—was dressed entirely in pale blue silk. The curtains were hand-sewn in Paris, and the bedspread was a cloud blue duvet with a deep blue silk overlay. A white wooden vanity sat on one side of the room with a pale blue stone washbasin, and French lavender, under a stasis charm, were held in a dainty crystal vase. A large walk-in closet stood closest to the vanity, where Hermione’s frocks hung. White wooden candles stood on every surface over pale blue lace, and a large cerulean stone chest of drawers stood holding Draco’s things. As a finishing touch, a white fur carpet was spread across the paneled rosewood floors.

Narcissa approached her then. “Hermione, all the guests are seated. It’s time to go downstairs and have your runes painted on.”

Harry moved to join her as they left the suite to ask again, “What oils?”

Ginny snorted from behind them and quipped, “Potter don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

 

Anjou Manor, Beltane 2000

 

Music drifted through the glass doors as an elderly witch painted runes of desire, fertility, and harvest onto her skin with a mixture of blueberries and blackberries. The witch then moved to rub a geranium scented oil over the runes to help them set. When she was done she washed her hands in a crystal basin. Narcissa quickly took out her wand and shot cool air onto Hermione’s dewy skin.

“You know,” Ginny whispered to Anna, “It would’ve been smarter to have done this before she had her dress on.”

Anna laughed and turned to look at Harry, who had a golden snitch hovering above his hand with his back turned to the girls.

“I believe that this is ritualistic. The runes have to stay as fresh as possible before she walks to Draco. Mother told me about this Do you see those dishes there along the aisle?” Anna explained, pointing towards the wedding site.

Ginny followed her gaze and indeed saw tiny sapphire bowls where smoke rose in heady curls.

“Those are incense bowls. When the bride walks down the aisle in Blood Magic rituals, her runes interact with the incense. It helps to prepare her for the ceremony, and invoke the Blood Magic. So, when Hermione puts back on her dress, the incense will intensify and activate the intent of her runes.”

Ginny turned to Hermione to note the sideways mountain along Hermione’s abdomen, the pointed P under her breasts, and the opposite facing Vs.

“So, in essence, she’ll become more fertile than before?” Ginny asked skeptically, her eyes scanning Hermione’s rounded belly.

“I think that’s the gist, darling.”

Ginny laughed and said “Well, pregnancy suits our girl. When I get preggers, I fancy looking like her.”

Hermione looked over at her bridesmaids and asked, “Why are you all looking at me like that.”

Ginny grinned. “Fancy becoming a model, love?”

Narcissa turned to smile at a confused Hermione and added, “That would be lovely Hermione, and she is right, you know, pregnancy does suit you.”

Hermione scowled as Narcissa helped her delicately into her gown again, making sure not to brush the runes.

“Hermione, it would be tasteful, nothing crude. I bet  _ Witch Weekly _ or  _ Witch Secret _ would love to set up an interview,” Ginny gushed.

Hermione turned her eyes heavenwards to reply, “Can we please revisit this after this ritual is done.” 

Narcissa laughed and motioned Hermione to stand and fussed a bit more. “It's time.” 

Harry stood up to move to her and extended her the crook of his arm.

“I'm nervous, Harry,” she whispered, smoothing her hand over the swell of her belly.

“You've got this, ‘Mione. If you can ride a dragon, you can marry a Malfoy.” He smiled back, his green eyes glittering with humor.

 

Anjou Gardens, Beltane 2000

 

Draco stood with Blaise and Rolf by the altar, and looked around. There were dozens of people he didn't know; he did, however, recognize some of his distant relatives. Arielle was sitting in the third row with Theo's hand clasped in hers. He recognized a few dignitaries including the French Ministry of Magic and Headmaster of Beauxbatons. Headmistress McGonagall was also there sitting next to a widely smiling Pomona Sprout. Most of the Weasley children were there too, save for Ron, who declined his invitation. His Aunt Andromeda was there with a tiny Teddy Lupin—sporting silver blonde hair for the occasion. 

“She's beautiful, mate.” Blaise whispered reverently, making Draco turn and then promptly forget to breathe.

He became so entranced by the way she moved towards him that he failed to notice  the fumes from the incense spiralling towards her. All he knew was that she seemed to sparkle and glow, her face bright, her eyes clear. 

When she stood before him, Harry took her hand and placed it in his and entreated, “Take care of her.”

He nodded to stare into her eyes, and if he hadn't fallen in love with her previously, he would've fallen today. She stood before him, achingly beautiful in pale blue silk with one hand resting where his children grew and the other in his. 

She smiled at him then looked to the minister, a heavy-set woman wearing glinting silver robes.

“We are gathered here today to witness the Blood Magic bond between Hermione Anjou and Draco Malfoy.  On this day, they pledge themselves to one another and promise to fulfill their obligation,” she enunciated to the crowd at large. 

“Blood Magic is sacred as it is mighty. On this day, Hermione Anjou accepts her union with Draco Malfoy, as Draco Malfoy accepts his own to her. Sanctus Magica, awaken guardian of this pact.”

Suddenly, a warm gust of wind and thousands of mint leaves swirled to form the image of a witch. While her body was shrouded, the mint leaves parted to reveal a smooth, lovely face  with creamy white skin, large blue eyes and an upturned nose. The face focused hungrily on Hermione before turning to the priestess.

“I have heard your chanting, lowly priestess. I will determine if their union meets the obligation,” the spirit intoned.

“ Do you accept the terms of the Blood Magic, heiress of Anjou? Will you birth the future of magic? Will you accept your fate?” it asked.

Hermione placed both hands on her belly, and the spirit followed her gaze. “Ah, so you've begun already.You have a strength about you, Hermione of Anjou, an affinity for greatness that you will pass onto those you carry.”

The spirit turned to Draco next to appraise him. “It appears you've accepted your obligation as well. Your task is not over yet, heir of Malfoy. You know the penalty, but you were wise to pick such runes. She is already predispositioned in all of them, and will help you, I think, satisfy your obligation. What do you have to offer the Anjou heiress in return?”

Draco simply stared aristocratically back at the spirit. His father had previously prepared him for this last evening. 

 

_ Lucius’s Study, Beltane _

 

_ Lucius stood in front of the portrait of Abraxas and the heavily pregnant form of Luisa Malfoy.  _

 

_ “He must be prepared for the ritual. To my knowledge, when Eliza cast our curses into the Blood Magic, she also imbued a bit of herself into it, too. She may very well be the guardian that you will invoke. If it is, grandson, you must be vigilant, for she is cunning and sympathetic only towards your bride. She will strike you down the moment you hesitate. Her affinity is not towards you but what you have to offer,” Luisa intoned, her large eyes on Draco. _

 

_ “What will it require of him ancestress?” Lucius asked solemnly. _

 

_ Luisa kept her eyes steady on Draco. “Only the truth. Your pledge to give the Anjou heiress what none has given any of her kin in hundreds of years.” _

 

_ Draco knew there was some sort of curse on his family line, but he never knew there was one on the Anjou bloodline. He knew neither his mother nor Hermione would have answers to these mysteries. No, those questions would be better answered by living memories: portraits.  _

 

_ According to Hermione, the surname Anjou was passed down to every first born female child. She didn`t take the name because her father, Richard Granger, refused to follow an `arcane tradition.` She also told him, after doing research, that every child born to the Anjou line centuries back were daughters. The last son, a William, died little over 500 years ago. He was also a druid and lived away from his family for all his life according to the Anjou journals. There were apparently hundreds of these journals in the library at Anjou Manor, a room that was magically locked until it opened itself for Hermione. _

 

_ As for the curse on his family, he never delved much into it or asked questions. He knew that his grandmother Clarissa and own mother Narcissa had only ever bore one son each. But it had always been an issue wrought with contention, an issue his mother was very sensitive about. He knew Narcissa always wanted a daughter, a girl to dress up and to influence in life but she had complications. _

 

_ Which was why when he found out Hermione was pregnant a month or so ago, he was surprised. She was carrying not one, but three children in her womb _ — _ a fact Luisa Malfoy wasn't evidently aware of.  _

 

_ “ My fianc _ _ é _ _ e is carrying three of my heirs, all sons.” He frowned. _

 

_ Luisa raised large eyes to Abraxas. She then folded her hands and asked clearly, “Has she ever been to the Anjou library? Is there a portrait there, one of a witch with black, curling hair?” _

 

_ “ I’ve never stepped foot in there. But Hermione did tell me about a portrait. It’s of her ancestor, a witch named Celestina” _

 

_ Immediately, all the doors and windows to Lucius’s study closed, and Luisa’s eyes turned silver. _

 

_ “Celestina is not only ancestor to your bride, but also your kin. Before she bound herself to the Anjou family, she was a Malfoy. One of the last female Malfoy daughters there ever was. Do not heed anything she tells you. She knows nothing but lies and deceit,” she warned. _

 

_ His imagination ran wild with that information, and he deduced  that Celestina knew something about the Malfoy family, something sinister.  Maybe she was cursed, and blighted the Malfoy blood-line. Maybe she is the reason why the Anjous stopped producing elemental magic. But, then why was such a dangerous witch in the hallowed Anjou library? There was more to this, and he would unearth it all. _

 

_ Storing away his theories for later, he addressed his ancestress, “A healer already confirmed it. Hermione and I are expecting three boys that are healthy and growing daily.” _

 

_ Luisa bowed her head. “For that I am glad. Thus, you must tell the spirit only that. Tell Eliza, or whatever part of her that lives in the spirit, what you have to offer.” _

 

“ I offer her sons,” he replied looking directly at the spirit.

 

The spirit then whirled around to hover its mint-leaf hand over Hermione’s abdomen and whispered, “Elemental magic.”

 

It turned to bow to Draco in a flourish and said, “Hermione Anjou has satisfied her obligation to me. You, Draco Malfoy, still have a task ahead of you. I pray, for the sake of my heiress,” at this, the spirit's eyes turned a bright silver, “that you succeed.”

A golden wave swept across the gardens, signalling the spirit of the Blood Magic had been appeased. Hermione smiled gently at Draco, who took both her hands to press them to his lips.

The priestess came forward to speak. “The union of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Anjou has been blessed. Often we come together on Beltane to celebrate a beginning. Today, I entreat you to celebrate theirs. It's not everyday that blood magic bonds are formed, nor sealed, so it is with great ceremony that I myself bless this union.”

She waved her hand then, and a golden rope hovered over the air, beckoning Hermione and Draco to lower their hands. The rope settled over their hands, tightened, and when Hermione started to feel it's fibres, the rope disappeared.

“You are now bonded for life. That rope was no ordinary one; it bound your heartbeat, ensured your fidelity, and intertwined your soul,” the witch said, looking between the couple.

When Hermione lifted her eyes to Draco she knew she wasn't a Granger, nor an Anjou anymore, but a Malfoy.

Tugging his bride to him, he kissed her soundly as everyone in Anjou garden stood up to cheer, whistle and clap.

Framing her face he promised, “I will love you all the days of my life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou so much to Chanda Williams for reviewing this !! xox


	19. Anjou Library

Anjou Manor

 

“May I may have this dance?” Draco asked. He watched her walk towards him, her skirts rustling, and slide her small hand into his.

 

The reception was all gold and glory. Draco would forever remember the way candlelight danced on Hermione’s face, how her eyes sparkled and her lip curved when she swayed with him for their first dance as man and wife. She danced with everyone, and her laugh was so sweet that even the cellists stopped to listen. She would’ve lingered the entire night if he wasn’t watching her so closely. He knew the second exhaustion took hold of her and asked her to please sit down and rest a little.When she laughed at him and told him she was fine, he broke down and contracted Potter to do the honours. Within a blink of the eye, Potter had her sitting down next to a very tipsy Ginny Weasley and laughing Anna Avery. When the stars began to cast their lights, like nets, through the glass walls Hermione began to yawn widely. He searched for his mother and spotted her and his father walking from couple to family alike, pressing thank you cards into their hands.  At the stroke of midnight almost everyone, including Blaise Zabini and Ginny Weasley—who had disappeared together for an hour during the last ballad—had either Apparated or Flooed home, save for Harry and Azalea, who had chose to walk home. 

 

As he walked up the staircase with Hermione, he watched her take slow deliberate steps. She would never let on, but he knew how tired she had been getting lately. She was never one to laze around, but last week he caught her with her feet up in the Head Common Room gently snoring. She also had one hand pressed to her back more often than not, and her face was usually flushed from exertion. He knew she kept a pregnancy journal with detailed notes on how she felt on a weekly basis. She most likely did this for two-fold reasons. They both knew she would become pregnant again quickly after she gave birth to their first three children, so she would want to be more prepared. He ,in turn, took note of her varying symptoms so that he could discern how potent to make her prenatal potions. He was toying around with the idea of brewing prenatal potions tailored to each trimester. Of course, the potion would need to be tweaked for every witch and tweaked further if that witch was carrying multiple fetuses. But he could make a very general one and possibly present it to St. Mungo’s—should he be inclined. However, that endeavour would wait; in the meantime, he would focus on brewing for Hermione alone. He had brewed a new cauldron of her prenatal potion that she would take as of next Tuesday when she started her second trimester. It would work to ease her physical aches and pains as well as bolster her energy levels. He felt guilty, even though Arielle advised him to not to be, about adding the French Spirulina. Although it helped Hermione, it also made her especially needy in bed. In retrospect, he never found her more appealing, especially considering those sheer, silk blouses of hers she donned at bedtime. 

 

When they got to the top of the staircase, she picked up her skirts and brushed by him into their bedroom, which had been decorated into the marriage suite. Walking closer, he peered in to see her sitting at a vanity surrounded by candles, and delicately wiping off her make-up. The four poster bed across from her was strewn with pale blue rose petals. The covers were drawn down, and large white conch shells sat on either bedside table holding tiny blue candles. He turned his head, entranced, as she pulled the jeweled comb out of her hair. Her hair fell in loose waves around her, and when she stood and turned her golden eyes on him, he was lost.

 

“Will you love me tonight, Draco?”

 

He continued to watch, mesmerized, as she smiled and made the bedroom door shut softly behind him. She then bit her lips and unlaced the back of her dress so that it billowed to the floor as it fell. She stood before him, her body painted in the runes for fertility, harvest and desire, and he forgot to breathe. She was the woman of his dreams, and he would not deny her this night.

 

When he kissed her, he felt her shudder, and when he trailed his lips over her heated skin, she trembled. He hoisted her up and laid her delicately on the bed before he took her mouth in a searing kiss.  When the moonlight spilled across her belly he kissed her there too and tasted blueberries and all-consuming lust.

 

They continued this dance until he felt her spasm, once, twice, three times and then finally he found his release.

 

He fell into a deep sleep with her, his head on her breast and his hand on the smooth skin of her belly. He couldn’t imagine ever being more in love with someone. 

 

Anjou Manor Library, Late Spring 2000

 

Hermione sat curled up on a large blue loveseat and sighed in contentment. She left Draco to snooze, but by now he had likely taken his broom out.The manor was quiet and full of birdsong and sunlight—she had asked Tinzy to keep all the windows open, despite the breeze that hinted at Summer. She felt so lovely, so effervescent, and knew it was because of the new prenatal potions Draco started her on a few weeks ago. She was near the end of her second trimester now, and she felt as lively as she felt prior to being pregnant. She had said goodbye to morning sickness months ago, but she’d also said goodbye to the more exuberant sex drive she had nursed for the most part of her pregnancy. However, she still felt needy from time to time thanks to Draco’s obsessive attention to detail when it came to her prenatal potion ingredients. 

 

That man was a potion genius, and she couldn’t get enough of him. In fact, she kept him up quite late last night. She even tried to rouse him for another bout this morning, but the poor soul was utterly knackered. She could probably sway him later on, especially with the lacy Muggle teddy she had on—a gift from Azalea. It was made entirely of creamy silk and silver lace that barely covered her breasts. They were achy this morning, and she couldn`t wait for Draco to get back from his morning ride.

 

She and Draco had developed a morning routine—one that deviated from things bedside raucous sex. 

 

Most mornings she just woke up, brushed her teeth and made her way to the library with a cup of hot water and lemon. She typically left Draco to his own devices while she did that, and she knew he often went flying or to his newly designated potions lab down the hall. On the rare occasion, they spent time in bed pleasing each other, but most times it was the former. His was mostly due to their joint decision to complete all their remaining assignments for graduation remotely. They did, however, have to Apparate in from time to time for Quidditch matches, practises and Prefect meetings.

 

This also gave her time to spend with Ginny and Anna, who were busy studying for entrance exams into their respective chosen fields. Ginny simply was studying for the standard exam given to Hogwarts students who didn’t wish to take a specialized entrance exam. She had aims to join the Holyhead Harpies. Anna, on the hand, was studying to get a position in the Ministry of Magic. She wanted to try her hand at the Witch Weekly internship. On a few occasions, she had journeyed into Hogsmeade Village with the girls, but she knew Draco kept tabs on her. She also thought it was endearing the way Blaise would pop up the moment it started to drizzle with a Impervius umbrella charm. He would also casually flirt with Ginny, who just as casually flirted back.

 

Hermione chuckled and happily lifted her cup to her mouth when she detected movement out of the corner of her eye. Setting her cup down, she turned her head to stare into a pair of bright silver eyes that were crinkled in laughter.

 

“My, but you are quite a seductress, daughter mine. No man, wizard or Muggle, will be able to resist you thus.”

 

Hermione frowned, her eyes flickered to the metal plate below the portrait that read  _ Celestina Anjou. _

 

_ “ _ I wasn’t aware the portraits of this manor could speak,” Hermione said faintly.

 

The woman in the portrait tilted her head to the side to study her, and Hermione started at how hauntingly beautiful she was. She had white alabaster skin, large silver eyes and black curling hair. Her features were pointed and sharp in a way that reminded Hermione greatly of Bellatrix Lestrange and Andromeda Tonks. She wore long navy robes with panels of silver, and she had a large diaphanous veil over her head. It wasn’t so much her beauty that unnerved Hermione, but the eyes she had—large and completely silver—which wasn’t a common sight to behold.

 

“My portrait is quite unlike most of the one’s rendered for this manor. My portrait is only visible to witches and wizards my dear, which must make you a witch. Tell me, are you the witch who is fated to break my curse?”

 

Hermione stared for a moment. “I apologize, but I have no idea as to what you’re referring to.”

 

Celestina turned in her portrait, picked up a silver chalice and sipped from it before replying “I speak of the blight on the Malfoy line. Long ago, before I was an Anjou, I hailed from the Malfoy family, a family that only ever wanted a son, but instead had me. I was the true heir to my family, but my sire didn't want me and instead gave me to the druid William Anjou. My father, Alistair Malfoy, found another wife after my mother passed, but not before I could curse him. Curse him I did, and all his descendants that would come after him. He would only have one child, one male heir, no more and no less. But my curse came with a price, two-fold. One for enacting it and one for breaking it. When I enacted it, my William died, and the son in my belly was born a girl. My daughter and her daughter after her could not bear sons. Tell me child, are you the witch who will suffer my curse?”

 

Hermione blinked and placed a hand on her belly as she tried to process this information. She looked up and into those silver eyes and knew the woman was speaking in riddles, and by the way she was smiling, she was doing it deliberately.

 

“You say you were a Malfoy prior to bonding yourself in matrimony to my ancestor?”

 

Celestina smiled coyly. “Listen to my warning: if you seek to break my curse, you too will have a price to pay.” 

 

Hermione stood up to walk closer, but the portrait, which was animate a second ago, was now still and unmoving. 

 

“Hermione?”

 

Hermione whirled around to face Draco, who held a broom in one hand and a mug of tea in the other.

 

“Tinzy sent me up with this for you. Are you feeling alright?”

 

He walked over, set his broom and the cup aside to peer into her face. She frowned at him and batted his hand away. “Do you remember me telling you about this portrait?”

 

She gestured to the portrait, and Draco looked toward the inanimate portrait of Celestina Anjou. He stared for a second then turned dubious eyes back onto her.

 

“What about it?”

 

“She was talking to me a few moments before you came in. She was telling me that she cursed your family. She told me that she was a Malfoy before marrying into my family and that the curse she cast made it so my family couldn’t produce male heirs. She said that if I were to break her curse, I would have a price to pay.”

 

They stood staring at each other for a few moments. Hermione began to wring her hands and stare anxiously at the painting as though willing it to become animate again, before Draco took her hand and pulled her into a seated position on the couch.

 

“Hermione. Breathe for a moment--deep breaths, in and out and think about this. Take a step back. You said she claimed to be a Malfoy?”

 

Hermione nodded slowly and followed his directives by taking slow deep breaths.

 

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “I didn’t tell you this, but a few weeks ago before our marriage, father took me into his office to talk to our ancestress Luisa. You met her awhile ago, in her portrait in my bedroom. She asked me about this painting and told me it was one of Celestina Anjou. She advised me to not to believe anything she tells me, that she only tells lies and plays tricks. I think we should take whatever Celestina has to say with a grain of salt.”

 

“Why would my ancestors place a portrait of a liar in the Anjou Library. If she was a liar, why was this painting of her rendered? How does your ancestor even know who Celestina was? They were born centuries apart. We need to do research and figure this out. Do you think there are records of this in the Ministry Archives? Or perhaps the Hogwarts Library might have what we’re looking for?”

 

“I don’t think our answers will come in written kind in this scenario, my love.” Draco peered at her face closely. “Have you eaten yet?”

 

Hermione shook her head no and raked her hands through her loose french braid. Draco sighed and called out, “Tinzy, can you please serve breakfast in the library?”

 

The house elf appeared instantly with a wooden tray holding various bowls of food. One bowl held yogurt with blueberries; the next held coarsely chopped nuts and chocolate pudding; and the one after that held clotted cream and fresh lemon scones.

 

“Master Draco, sir. Tinzy broughts you and Mistress food. Does Master need anything else?”

 

Before Draco could reply, Hermione held up one hand and chewed on her lip before she looked at Tinzy. “No Tinzy, this looks perfect, but we do have a question for you. Do you know anything about Celestina Anjou?”

 

Tinzy turned to stare up at the portrait of Celestina Anjou. Her ears seemed to bristle before turning back to her mistress. “She’s is a evil witch, Mistress. Yous must not looks at it. Shes does only evil things and says evil things. Did Mistress speak to her?”

 

Hermione studied her hands closely as she nodded.

 

“Mistress must be cautious, she must. Celestina Anjou has never once spoken to any member of yours family, Mistress. Not anyone, witch or Squib, has ever spoken to her after her death. If she spokes to you, Mistress, it means she's interested in yous. You must be very careful. Come out of this library, Mistress. Celestina will not be able to talk to yous anywhere else but in heres.”

 

Draco looked between his curious wife and the terrified house elf and asked, “But why is her portrait even in here? Shouldn't we burn it or something?”

 

Tinzy looked at the portrait as though waiting for it to come alive again before replying, “Yous can`t. A powerful spells was cast on this library to keep all within it untouchable, untraceable. Celestina cannot travel beyond this library or hurts Mistress outsides it. Tinzy advises Mistress to leaves this library and nots to come here again.”

 

Draco turned to look into Hermione`s large, slightly inquisitive eyes to agree with Tinzy. “I think she’s right. Let’s go eat this in the sunroom so I can ravish you after, or during,” he winked.” I don’t know about you but I’m famished”r

 

Hermione watched him pick up the tray before she trailed after him. She took one look around before waving her hand and magically sealing the doors. She would regret this, she knew. She dearly wished to see her children’s name appear on the tapestry as they were born, but she knew there was a spell to create a new magical family tree—she would cast it soon.

 

Behind the closed doors, Celestina shimmered to life and smiled cruelly. She would wait and bide her time, for the witch would return and bargain with her. She wasn't a seer like her daughter or her descendants after her, but she knew without hesitation that Hermione Anjou would bear a Malfoy daughter. When that day came, she would return and sell her very soul to save her child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou SO much to Chanda Williams for reviewing this chapter! xo


	20. Nothing Can Ruin This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time Jump Warning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou so much to Chanda Williams for reviewing this chapter!! xo

Anjou Gardens, Spring 2003

 

“Rigel, please stop picking Mummy’s hyacinths,” Hermione said. She was kneeling down in the dirt, hands in the soil, but her eyes were on her boys. It was a warm April morning, and she chose this occasion to do some gardening. She even had on a pale floral skirt and a white eyelet blouse which were charmed with anti-stain and dirt charms.

 

All five of her boys were dressed for the occasion too—pale blue cable knit sweaters and blue jeans. Her 11-month olds, Alexander—a miniature version of Draco—and Hugo—all curling brown hair and grey eyes—were both on their tummies on a plaid blanket she spread out for them.

 

“But mummy, I want to bring them inside. Archer brought you the sunflowers,” Rigel replied testily. He looked the most like her father, Richard Granger, with his golden brown hair and bright amber eyes. She knew he would age into a heartbreaker; he even had her father's sense of humour—he laughed at everything.

 

“Uncle Harry gave me those, remember?” Archer tossed back arrogantly. For three, he was a born Slytherin. He inherited the Black family traits—large grey eyes and black glossy curls—and was the apple of his Grandmother Narcissa’s eye.

His brother, Cae, sighed. He was the perfect mix of her and Draco with his gleaming silver waves and amber eyes.

 

“They were still in the ground, Archer. Right, Mummy?” Cae asked, looking up at her expectantly.

 

“Yes, they were. But Uncle Harry was clipping his sunflowers to give to your Aunty Azalea. Do you remember why?”

 

“Because Aunty ‘Zalea had James Sirius!” Rigel replied, jumping up and down.

 

Hermione laughed and looked up just as Draco dismounted from his broomstick next to her. Their boys all clamoured around him. Even Alexander lifted up his head and gave Draco a gummy smile.

 

“How’s my family doing on this fine morning? Did everyone have a good sleep?” Draco asked, waggling his eyebrows at Hermione. Hermione smiled widely and recalled the delicious way Draco woke her up—his lips and teeth closed around one of her oh so sensitive nipples—while he built a slippery rhythm within her.

 

She had given birth to the twins almost a year ago and she got the go-ahead from her medi-witch, Luna Scamander, who had chosen a career in healing a year after the triplets were born, to have sex again. For the past six months, Draco had been insatiable, reacquainting himself with her body zealously. She was equally wanton and even encouraged the more indulgent sex-life that they now both enjoyed. They’d spent a little over an hour pleasuring each other that morning which meant all five of her boys got a bit of a lie-in. Of course, the house elves, Nixie, Sky and Berry, made sure all of them were woken and fed before she made her way downstairs.

 

“Yes! Mummy is letting us help plants flowers!” Archer smirked. He knelt down carefully and placed his tiny hand on the soil. Green sparks skimmed over the tops of the soil and dove within before Hermione’s African violets sailed through the air and settled prettily into the spots Archer designated for them. He then turned his pale eyes on Hermione and smirked devilishly, making her roll her eyes.

 

“Archer used magic!” Rigel said, stomping his little foot indignantly.

 

Draco crouched down beside Archer to peer humorously into his face. “We talked about this. Mummy likes to plant her flowers by hand.”

 

“But magic makes it go faster. Then we can go see Gran.”

 

Hermione laughed from her kneeling position and said, “Baby, I told you your Grandmother Cissa is coming here tomorrow. How about we plant the peonies next? Will you help me?”

 

Archer tossed his head and scoffed before peaking at his father, who had a slight smirk on his face.

 

“Can I help too, Mummy?” Rigel asked, then turned to look at Alexander who had his little hand in the freshly turned soil which was gently being saturated with water. All the while, Alexander made gurgling noises.

 

Hermione smiled widely and stood to get up then swayed a bit, her head spinning.

 

“Love? Are you ok?” Draco frowned, walking over to her. The boys were all around Alexander with curious expressions. They all demonstrated premature displays of elemental magic, and each one was unique. Cae had an affinity with animals; he seemed to be able to converse with them. Rigel and Alexander both had a grasp of controlling water, much to all the house elves’ dismay when it came to bath time. Hugo could make shapes in the fireplace and control flames, and Archer had a bit of a green thumb.

 

Hermione blinked and looked up at him. She bit her lip and recalled how often these bouts of dizziness had been happening lately. She had always been in tune with her body's cues, but she didn’t want to self-diagnose.

 

She had chalked up her breasts feeling tender due to Draco’s very clear obsession with them. But, she had been noticing other things too. Her appetite had returned in full force, and she had been using the loo a lot at night.

 

She wouldn’t tell Draco yet what she suspected; he was due to go to Spain for a healing conference on Friday. She would talk to Luna first, who mentioned she might pop in to see her later that evening.

 

“I’m okay. Just a bit dizzy, is all,” she smiled, smoothing out the creases in her skirt.

 

Draco winked at her and turned to his boys with a twinkle in his eye. She knew what he was thinking—they lucked out there. She remembered that chilly September night when she gave birth to the triplets. It was both painful and wondrous.

* * *

_Anjou Manor, Winter 2000_

 

_There were candles everywhere, white for peace and blue for tranquillity, while Hermione laboured. Sweat was pouring down her face, and everything hurt. She breathed steadily in and out as Healer Adams instructed._

 

 _“Come on, Hermione, you're almost there. Just breathe. Yes, that`s right, in and out,_ ” _she instructed. She was a small, delicate witch with a pretty heart-shaped face, large brown eyes and golden hair bound back into a neat braid. Her eyes were focused as she waved her wand over Hermione's very round belly. The spells she was employing were non-verbal, but Hermione knew she was checking for signs of distress as well as monitoring the triplets heartbeats._

 

 _Hermione followed the Healer’s instructions before turning her face to Draco, who sat beside her on the bed holding onto her hand tightly. His face was pale and his eyes large as he watched her_ — _he was terrified. She had been in labour for the past five hours without any antipain potions; none of them seemed to be entering her system or making it past her lips. As soon as Healer Adams arrived, Hermione was given several vials of Salvia Soothe_ — _a renowned antipain potion used during labour_ — _but the moment the potion touched her lips, it evaporated. Hermione and Draco deduced it was due to the high levels of magic already in her bloodstream from the triplets. Even unborn, they were very powerful, and their elemental magic seemed to have the counteractive effect on any sorts of potions. She only noticed it happening within the last month, much to Draco's distress when brewing her prenatal potion. She couldn’t even take Pepper Up the week before when she was feeling under the weather. She had to resort to Muggle techniques—hot baths, herbal teas and getting lots of rest._

 

 _Still, she felt bad for Draco, who had to watch her_ — _for the past five hours_ — _literally tremble with pain._

 

 _“Healer Adams_ — _Vanessa_ — _are you sure we shouldn't just go to Mungos? She's almost fully dilated. Maybe we can make some incisions_ ?” _he asked._

 

 _“No,_ ” _Hermione bit out, “I want to stay here. I want to watch...their names appear.” She gestured to the wall. There, in the golden script was the Malfoy/ Anjou family tree. Her name and Draco's were at the top of a sapling, and three lines were steadily spiralling their way down between their names._

 

 _“I understand love, I do, but you're in too much pain. It's been five hours. You can't last much longer._ ”

 

“Draco Malfoy, don't you tell me what I can and cannot do. I —, ” _she spasmed suddenly, painfully._

 

 _“You're fully dilated, Hermione. Okay, on my count. One, two, three, and push!_ ” _Healer Adams urged, her hands braced on Hermione's widened knees._

 

_Hermione closed her eyes and pushed. After a beat, she heard a soft cry and opened her eyes to watch Healer Adams pull away from her with a tiny baby cradled in her arms._

 

_Cae’s face was scrunched up as he was passed to Draco's waiting arms. Draco quickly picked up his wands and nonverbally severed the cord and cleansed him. What felt like an hour passed while Hermione gazed into her baby's face before Healer Adams snapped her fingers for her attention._

 

 _“Okay, Hermione, give me another push!_ ” _Healer Adams urged, her hands braced on Hermione's widened knees._

 

_Hermione closed her eyes and pushed, crying out just as Healer Adams safely delivered her second son, Rigel, into the world. Tinzy rushed in and quickly took Cae from Draco's arms, so he could perform the same procedure on Rigel._

 

She sobbed, desperately wanting to hold her children, but she knew she had to push one more time. She looked into Healer Adam's eyes who gave her a few minutes before nodding quickly, _signalling her to push, and push she did. She faintly registered pain of a different kind as she screwed her eyes tight. When she heard that third soft cry, she opened her eyes to watch Archer’s dark head of curls pass from Healer Adams to Draco._

 

 _She turned her gaze to the wall across from her to watch the names, Caellum, Rigel, and Archer, appear below her’s and Draco’s. She smiled before she starting seeing black spots in her vision. She looked down once and noticed her duvet and sheets were steadily turning crimson_ — _with her blood. There was a flurry of motion before she passed out from the exhaustion and sheer pain of labour._

 

_She would wake several hours later to three sleeping infants, as well as a very anxious looking Draco and Tinzy._

 

She had lost quite a lot of blood that day and her system had shut down from the constant flux of pain and exhaustion. She was on several potions a day for a week before Narcissa showed up one morning with three house elves—Nixie, Sky and Berry—who were all nursing elves.  Draco even hired a Healer from Avalon College, Luna Scamander, to help Hermione adjust while he was at work. Draco had recently finished his residency at St. Mungo's and now was a Healer, who primarily worked in the labs brewing varying tinctures, potions and elixirs. His fertility potion passed inspection, and he was compensated rather lavishly, not that they needed the extra Galleons.

 

Hermione’s recovery was long and arduous, but, when she did recover, she spent every second with her babies. She marvelled over their tiny hands and that new baby smell. She also realized, rather quickly, that they were fraternal triplets—something that the St. Mungo's Healers hadn’t considered to be vital information. Draco explained to her that prenatal Healers consider all magical fetuses to be unique, regardless of their physical traits. She only started to feel again—both as a mother and a woman—before she fell pregnant again.

 

At that point, Draco was given leave to work from home, so that he could personally see to Hermione's needs as well as take care of their boys. When she bore Alexander and Hugo—fraternal twins—one snowy night at home surrounded by candles and several Healers, she was finally able to relax. She finally had five sons, which meant Draco’s obligation to the blood pact was met.

 

The second time she gave birth wasn't as physically painful as the first. Alexander and Hugo were delivered within an hour of her going into labour, which made for a speedier recovery, but she still relied on the house elves.

 

She trusted and respected the tiny creatures, and it felt nice knowing her babies would be tended to while she did yoga in the morning or satisfied her baser urges in bed with Draco. She enjoyed a very active and robust sex life with him—something that stayed with her through both pregnancies despite the effects of magical flora and fungi. When the twins were born, they found themselves able to relax more and just enjoy each other.

 

She’d stopped taking the fertility potions altogether, but neither did she use a contraceptive charm. Neither of them was concerned, and they were usually too consumed by each other to voice anything. Once, she’d asked Draco to perform the contraception charm, but he was too focused on trailing kisses along her sternum to respond. The second time she asked, he merely lifted a brow and told her point blank he wanted her, no restrictions before her knickers came off and that was that.

 

So, she was taking motherhood in stride and felt like she was one of the luckier ones of her generation. Merlin, she often pondered how Molly Weasley did it by herself with seven children. She thanked Merlin every day for the house elves, who lived very comfortable and happy lives despite refusing payment. She tried to pay them on several occasions, and the tiny creatures laughed at her every time.

 

“Mummy! I thought we were planting the flowers!” Archer whined.

 

She smiled widely and met Draco’s laughing eyes before joining her family.

 

Anjou Manor, Spring 2003

 

The boys were all tucked away for the night, which meant Hermione could enjoy her chamomile tea with Luna undisturbed. The house elves, especially Sky, kept nightly vigils, staying close by in case one of the boys woke—Alexander had been having falling dreams recentlywhich, in turn, woke Hugo up, as they slept side-by-side. Draco had suggested placing Alexander in another room, but Hermione had insisted on just placing _Silencios_ around the other boys. She wanted Alexander to overcome it on his own but still have the comfort of his brothers nearby, much to Draco's chagrin.

 

He was over at Theo’s place with Blaise, who would be getting married in a few weeks to a heavily pregnant Ginny. The redhead and Blaise had insisted that their relationship was casual for the past few years, but when she found out she was expecting last Yule, Blaise had stepped up and proposed.

 

She smiled into her tea and looked up at Luna, perched on the couch with her hand resting gently on the small bump that signalled her own pregnancy. She also held a mug of tea, a spicy licorice one Tinzy had made for her when she said she'd been feeling under the weather.

 

“How often have these dizzy spells been happening?” Luna asked with a frown.

 

Hermione looked up at the ceiling before replying. “I’d say every other day now. Sometimes if I rest or take a nap while Tinzy, Nixie, Sky or Berry sees to the boys I’m okay. But, sometimes if I'm up earlier or later during the night with Draco,” she winked. “I get one.”

 

“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” Luna murmured, and picked up her wand to wave it  over Hermione’s abdomen.

 

A pale gold light emitted from her stomach, and Hermione looked up with a gleeful look on her face.

 

“I’m pregnant.”

 

Luna laughed and replied, “It would appear so. Always trust your instincts; they never lie. Your boys will love this new addition, and, speaking of which, this one won’t be one.”

 

“Won't be one what?”

 

“Do you see that silver tinge along the gold?” Luna pointed. Hermione looked down at her stomach, and there was indeed a current of silver shimmering with the gold.

 

“That means, pretty Hermione, that you're having a girl.”

 

“I'm having a girl? Well, bless my socks. Did you hear that mates? Do you lot reckon Gin will massage my feet now, too?”

 

Hermione looked up as Blaise strolled into the living room. Draco and Theo followed him, both with exhausted looks on their faces. Theo was much recovered after being in a magical coma for several months and more lively than ever. He was now happy and engaged to Rolf`s younger sister, Sierra Scamander. When things didn't work out with Arielle—who took a posting in Ilvermorny—he was single for a little while and even lived in Inverness,Scotland. He didn`t meet Sierra until Rolf and Luna's wedding, and both appeared to be instantly attracted to one another.

 

They now lived together in Nott Manor and had only just started to plan their wedding, slated for next March.

 

“Draco! I didn’t expect you. I thought you were staying at Theo’s place tonight?” Hermione asked and threw a grin at Blaise, who winked back at her.

 

“We decided to go to a pub in Caille, and these sods aren’t fit to Apparate so we wanted to use the Floo here. However, I think I’ll let them Floo back by themselves given this turn in events.”

 

Hermione flushed and looked at Luna, who tactfully picked up her tea and started asking Theo about his father, who had developed a slight case of dementia recently. Theo had Healers tending to his father at home, but Hermione could imagine how mentally exhausting that would be.

 

“What was Luna talking about, then? Come on, we’re all ears,” Blaise teased, walking closer to an intrigued Draco and squirming Hermione.

 

Draco massaged his temples and quickly cast a _Silencio_ on Blaise before turning back to Hermione with his eyebrows raised.

 

“I wanted to tell you after your conference. I believe—well, I know, now, that I’m pregnant.”

 

Draco’s eyes widened to whisper, “With a girl? We’re having a baby girl?”

  
She bit her lip while smiling and nodded at him. He whooped and lifted her into the air while Blaise danced around like a drunken house elf. She laughed before framing his face and while she kissed him she thought, “n _othing can ruin this.”_


	21. Magical Creatures

Malfoy Manor, Greenhouse Autumn 2003   
   
Sunlight streamed through the windows in effervescent dapples of light. Hermione had one hand resting on her belly and the other on a sleeping Hugo. He was curled around her like a blanket—the poor tyke had a fever last night and was up until the wee hours of the morning with Sky and Draco tending to him.    
   
Across from her, Lucius held Alexander, who was playing with a silver stuffed dragon named Ice—it was a gift Lucius gave to him on his first birthday last May. Hugo had been given a stuffed raven. Lucius and Narcissa had preconceived notions of where all the boys would be sorted. Cae and Rigel would go into Gryffindor, Archer and Alexander would go to Slytherin, and Hugo would go to Ravenclaw. The latter was due to the fact that Hugo was rather clever for a one-year-old, which even Archer attested to. Lucius was adamant that Alexander belonged in Slytherin and boasted to all his friends and colleagues about it. Out of all her boys, Lucius favoured Alexander the most. Narcissa told Hermione that Alexander not only resembled Draco as a child but acted like him too. For example, he only answered to ‘Alexander,’ not ‘Alex’ or ‘Lex,’ which Rigel and Cae tried nicknaming him. He also only drank warm almond milk and would have almighty tantrums if the elves tried to feed him cow milk. He also only let Lucius nurse him as an infant and wailed like a banshee if anyone else tried to. At the moment, Alexander was talking animatedly about Ice while Lucius nodded and responded in kind.   
   
Hermione turned her attention to Archer and Rigel, who both stood with their grandmother Narcissa while she lectured them about plants. Rigel, for his part, was nodding congenially to everything Narcissa said. Hermione knew he had no interest in plants but devoted his entire attention to Narcissa simply because she asked. Archer, on the other hand, made a point of studying each of the plants—touching and smelling them as he went—while Narcissa spoke. Hermione chuckled, catching the attention of Rigel, who threw her an amused look. He quickly whispered something to Archer, who batted him away before ambling over to Hermione.   
   
“Mummy, will we be here long? When will Father be back?” he asked, sitting beside her to peer into Hugo’s sleepy face.   
   
Hermione cast her eyes up before responding. “Ry, I told you he and Cae are with Mr Scamander.”   
   
Rigel squinted at her for a second as though trying to remember exactly why his father was there.   
   
“It’s because, my boy, your elder brother has shown a proclivity for communicating with magical creatures, not just Muggle animals,” Lucius said with a lifted brow and smirk.   
   
Hermione smiled at Rigel, who frowned back, obviously trying to remember what ‘proclivity’ meant. Hermione made a point to tutor all her sons in language, art and science. Cae was especially talented in drawing. He spent every morning drawing pictures of magical creatures from a book Hermione had, so much that one day while Rolf and Luna were visiting, Luna suggested he visit Scamander Manor to draw pictures from real life. Naturally, Cae had Archer proposition Hermione and Draco into taking them. They Flooed over the next weekend and Hermione noticed something was different about Cae. The moment he got there, he stilled—which Hermione assumed was from excitement, as he’d never been to a Muggle or magical zoo. He then ran outside to stand before a group of unicorns, who all gazed regally up at him. Hermione, Draco, their boys, Rolf and Luna all stood outside gobsmacked as Cae spoke languidly to the unicorns. 

   
Cae had been ecstatic and told them the unicorn told him his name, but that he couldn’t relay it to anyone else—it was a secret. Rolf appeared to be just as excited as Cae and offered private lessons to him so that he could better learn about magical creatures. Draco and Hermione agreed, but they couldn’t haul all the boys there every Saturday morning. Visiting their friends with five boys was nice every so often, but every week would become cumbersome.So, every Saturday Draco Flooed to Scamander Manor with Cae, leaving Hermione and the elves alone with their boys. On this occasion, Narcissa and Lucius requested the family come over for dinner, so Hermione waited with the boys for Draco and Cae to return.   
   
Just then, the Floo signalled from inside, prompting Lucius to stand with Alexander and walk steadily into the house. Hermione looked down at Hugo and noted he was fast asleep, so she stayed where she was.   
   
Draco walked into the greenhouse with Cae, who held a fluffy yellow bundle of blankets in his arms. Lucius walked behind him with a curiously attentive Alexander, who even stopped talking about Ice.   
   
“Archer! Cae brought something home from Scamander Manor,” Rigel crowed from beside Hermione.   
   
“Rigel Malfoy, we do not yell at home, and we most certainly do not yell in your grandparent’s home,” Hermione reprimanded before she slid her eyes to the bundle in Cae’s arms. For his part, he looked contrite and a tad nervous as he kept his focus on his mother.   
   
“Draco, what is that in my grandson’s arms?” Narcissa asked with alarm. Archer held her hand and was looking curiously at Cae.   
   
“It looks like it’s moving,” Rigel said slowly as he cast a glance at Cae.   
   
“Rolf`s mother was over at Scamander Estate and she brought her Kneazle with her. The Kneazle was having kittens when we Flooed there and Cae, somehow, was able to help it and communicate with it. So as a reward, she gave him one,” Draco replied tiredly, raking a hand through his hair.   
   
Hermione stared incredulously at him before replying. “First of all, Kneazles are not pets. I have a hard time believing the Department of Magical Creatures allowed Mrs Scamander to own one, as they're endangered magical creatures. Second, why was I not consulted before this decision was made?”    
   
“Mummy, please don't make me give her up. She's very frightened and told me she doesn't like raised voices,” Cae pleaded, his amber eyes flashing at Hermione.   
   
“Caellum Malfoy, you do not speak that way to your mother. Explain, nicely, why Mrs. Scamander let you have the kitten,” Draco ordered.   
   
Cae slumped his shoulders and held the kitten gently. “I was able to communicate with Mrs Scamander`s Kneazle. She told me her kittens weren`t positioned properly. They would've died if it weren’t for me, but Uncle Rolf used some magic and got them out safely after. After, Mrs Scamander told me I can have a kitten because she couldn't think of anyone more worthy of it. Onyx was her firstborn, just like I am yours,” Cae replied.   
   
Hermione sighed. She turned to look at Archer, who had one eyebrow lifted and his lips curled. He evidentially was not a fan of the way Cae pleaded his case. Archer never got in trouble; in fact, Hermione couldn't think of one instance where she had to punish him.  He had been involved in a couple of escapades which warranted time-outs for Rigel and Cae, but Archer always managed to talk his way out of if—much to her chagrin and Draco`s amusement. However, he never appealed to his parents the way Cae did because as she would demonstrate, it never worked.   
   
“Darling, I understand, I do, but just because someone who isn't Daddy or me says you can have something does not make it right. I`m very happy that you were able to help Mrs Scamander`s Kneazle with her kittens, but that doesn't mean you automatically get a pet. You`re too little for a pet yet. You've only just turned four. Daddy and I are quite busy with you and your brothers, and we can't possibly care for a magical creature. Caring for magical creatures are hard work, and, until you`re older, I don’t think this is a good idea. I also believe Kneazle kittens still need to be with their mothers for eight weeks.”    
   
Cae`s eyes filled up with tears and he looked at his father, who looked back with an apologetic look on his face. Hermione knew that Draco most likely told Cae that they would need to discuss this situation at home, but Cae, being their boy with the biggest heart, wanted to bring along the kitten just in case.   
   
Just before Hermione was about to speak Lucius cleared his throat. All eyes turned to him as he watched Cae. “I think I may provide a solution. Young Cae here has quite a gift with communicating with magical creatures. However, you're right, Hermione, in that he`s too young to care for a baby Kneazle, who unlike most like creatures do not need to remain with their mothers for that length of time. Please consult Mr.Scamander for further questions, I only know this because my mother bred Kneazles when I was a boy.

I propose that your pet, Onyx, stay with your grandmother and I so that you can come over to see her anytime you like. Narcissa, are you in agreement?”  

   
Narcissa took one look at Cae`s tear-streaked face before nodding with a smile. From beside her, Archer adopted a bored expression. Cae then walked over to Lucius, who knelt down to hug him with the kitten in tow.   
   
Anjou Manor, August 2003   
   
Draco paused in the doorway with his cup of hot cocoa to watch his wife in bed. She was propped up with at least 4 pillows and held a journal labelled Baby Malfoy on her lap. She wore a pale green satin and lace night slip that followed the curves of her body. She still took his breath away, even after carrying and birthing all five of their boys. Her breasts were still creamy mounds that responded to his lightest touch, although they were now round and heavy again with pregnancy. Her shoulders were still kissably soft and tasted like honey. Her legs and thighs were still as strong as ever and still wrapped around his hips with ease when he made love to her.

 As he’d contemplated her, one of her hand had slid over her belly and rubbed round circles on it as if to soothe the babe that slumbered there.   
   
“Are you going to make love to your wife, or aren't you?” Hermione asked, her eyes still trained on her journal.   
   
Draco smiled wickedly. “I will after I go talk to Cae. Nixie came to my office a few moments ago to tell me he wanted to talk to me before bedtime”.   
   
A concerned look crossed Hermione`s face as she sat up, her slip shifting a bit to expose one white breast tipped in rose. Draco lost his train of thought and physically felt all his blood drain southward. He remembered a few months ago when Luna Scamander first gave them the nod to have sex again. It was one of the most euphoric and satisfying nights of his life, and he knew Hermione remembered it too.   
   
 

* * *

 

 _Anjou Manor, January 2003_  

 _Draco sat on the couch with a snifter of fire whiskey waiting for Hermione. She had gone to visit Luna for one of her last post-pregnancy visits. The boys were all sleeping and had gone to bed about an hour before, which enabled Draco to relax a little._  

 _The flames from the fireplace turned green before Hermione stepped through. She wore a white travelling cloak and held a package wrapped in tissue. Draco put down his snifter and sat up. “How did it go?”_  

 _She smiled widely, her face pink. “Great! Luna said I'm healing up nicely. How about I tell you the rest upstairs, but give me a few moments before you come up.”_  

_Draco's lip twitched. He was glad she was recovering so quickly; it’d been a couple of months since Hugo and Alexander were born, and she had done beautifully. The twins were both quiet babies and were doted on heavily by his father. In fact, Lucius had waited downstairs with Narcissa while Hermione gave birth, and, when he was called in, Draco remembered his face lighting up. Draco remembered Lucius walking slowly, a reverent look on his face, towards the twin boys. His father was equally joyous when Cae, Archer and Rigel were born, too, but it wasn't the same. Draco remembered Lucius reaching for Alexander while Narcissa hefted up Hugo. Lucius had looked into Alexander's tiny face and seemed to fall in love. It was interesting to watch, but from that moment on Lucius made himself available to Hermione's every whim. He even got into a verbal spat with the house elves because he wanted to be the one to put Alexander to bed, to burp him and to feed him. Hermione was more than happy to unload those duties onto Lucius, having quickly learned to accept help when it was given in regards to her boys._

_Draco remembered Hermione feeling bad for not being there at first for Cae, Rigel and Archer, but, when she found her feet under her again, she quickly became a tad overwhelmed. Being pregnant again, and with three six-month babies was an ordeal. Draco remembered Apparating home to Hermione on the couch, exhausted while the triplets were tended to by the elves. He remembered her telling him in no short order that she needed help. While he knew she respected the elves’ ability to tend to their children, she wanted to ensure she or another member of their family was the boys’ main care-taker. Lucius stayed true to his word and doted on Alexander the way he used to on Draco._

_Out of all their children, Alexander resembled him the most. He was born with a head of silver blonde hair, alabaster white skin and clear grey eyes that Hermione marvelled over but made him Lucius's favourite. Draco knew Narcissa favoured Archer, who looked like her father Cygnus Black with his black waves and grey eyes. Draco himself loved all of his children equally, just as Hermione did but he knew Hermione secretly favoured Rigel. They hadn't spoken to her parents in years. Hermione had spoken to a specialist at St. Mungo’s about reversing her parents’ memories, but the charm she cast now had years on its side. Reversing it would result in lasting neurological problems. She had been advised to re-introduce herself into their lives, but Hermione couldn't. She hadn't been back to visit them in Australia in years. However, the moment Rigel opened his eyes and looked at her, Draco knew she saw her father in him.  Hugo also resembled Richard Granger, but not as much as Rigel did. Hugo had his own unique character and blend of looks like Caellum did, and Draco made sure they felt equally loved for it._  

 _Draco shook his head, as though to clear his thoughts, then ambled up the stairs. He passed the children's bedroom and peered in to see three tiny wooden beds where the triplets slept side by side. Hugo and Alexander slept in two identical pine cribs that rocked slowly from side to side. The room was dark, but tiny Muggle night-lights glowed softly in the corners, and jars holding blue flames danced on all five miniature night stands. Mint leaves were twined with strings of goblin gold around each of the beds and respective cribs. The window was floor to ceiling and the curtains were gathered to the sides to showcase a clear night sky. Satisfied, Draco stepped out and walked over to his bedroom._  

 _He smelled the honeysuckle candles before he saw her, dressed in only a pale grey satin and lace camisole and a matching thong. The cups of the camisole were constructed entirely of a sheer lace that stretched down into a deep v._  

 _The overall effect was that her breasts were exposed and seemed to be full of the milk he secretly, desperately, wanted to taste._  

 _She met his eyes, which he suspected had gone dark with hunger and gently pushed at the straps of the camisole so that she was bare to what he was sure was his hungry gaze.  He stepped or stalked judging by how her eyes widened slightly, into the room._   

  _He pushed her down onto the bed, met her eyes for a split second then shifted down so that her breasts were level with his face. He spent the next hour alternating between breasts and thanked Merlin the master suite had an everlasting Muffliato charm. Her milk tasted exactly like what he fantasized it would_ — _creamy and sweet, like ambrosia. When he felt her clench and shudder below him he finally took her mouth in a searing kiss. He slid into her wet heat and groaned at the pleasure of her. It was like coming home, and the euphoria he felt was only matched through Hermione’s lusty moans._  

 _He lost count of how many times they pleasured each other that time, nor did he know that Tinzy would rouse him at 4 a.m. because Rigel had a high fever._  

 

* * *

He winked at Hermione and sent her one long look that conveyed his intentions to relive that night. Her breasts may not be full of that sweet ambrosia yet, but they were sensitive and deliciously weighty.  

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. “Is everything okay? Do you need me to come with you?” 

   
“What I need is for you to have that off when I come back. I’m sure Cae is fine; he’s most likely upset about not being able to bring that Kneazle kitten home with him.” 

Hermione sighed, flippantly ignoring her exposed breast. “Alright, but tell me if it’s anything else. I have no idea why those house elves tell you everything now as if I’m some eighteenth-century Muggle invalid.” 

Draco rolled his eyes in reply. “Because you’re pregnant. You shouldn’t be up at all hours of the night with the boys when I’m perfectly capable of doing it.”  

“Likely story. Well, you’re right. I shouldn’t be up overdoing it at all hours of the night,” she quipped back, shucking off her slip—making him groan—and sliding back under the covers. 

“Let’s not be hasty. We both know the house elves adore you, and he specifically asked for me, which is why I was alerted as opposed to you. So withdraw those claws of yours and stop being such a tease.” 

She winked and shifted in bed, exposing one milky slope. He groaned again then turned deliberately to walk out of the bedroom and down the hall. He knew if he spent another second in there the minx would somehow incapacitate him and go to Cae herself. 

He made his way down the second floor and peered inside the triplet’s room. A few months ago the decision was made to split up the nurseries for the sake of getting the boys used to the idea of separation. On the triplet’s fifth birthday, next October, they would each be given their own bedroom.  

Archer and Rigel were both asleep, but Cae sat up in bed with a glass of water and a pencil and sketchbook in his lap. On it was a drawing on Onyx—Cae had spent several hours with the Kneazle kitten before Hermione physically had to pull him away. 

   
“Having trouble sleeping are you?” Draco asked casually, his hands in the deep pockets of the navy night robe he wore. 

Cae looked up from his drawing and set it aside when Draco drew closer. Cae looked at his hands and asked, “Daddy, I was wondering. You know how I talk to magical creatures and animals?” 

Draco frowned and nodded. 

“Well, when we went to see Uncle Rolf and Aunt Luna, I felt something in the air before I saw the unicorns. Mummy taught me the word 'sense,' which means when someone knows things about something or someone before they see it. I sensed the unicorns. But, now, when we got home I'm starting to sense something else, something similar, and I don't know what it is." 

"How does it work? Do you mean the air feels funny, or do you mean you smell something? Did the unicorns smell a certain way?" Draco probed. 

“No, it's more that I can feel a change." 

Draco sat back and stared at Cae for a moment before asking, “So you're saying you feel a change in the air at home?" 

Cae fidgeted. "Yes, but it's not as strong. I can only feel it if I think about it hard." 

Draco frowned again and tucked away this bit of info to discuss with Hermione. Their boys were growing and changing every day, which entailed their elemental magic was growing, too.  While Cae`s theory had merit, he only turned four, and Draco couldn't take his theory at face value yet before consulting Rolf about it. Speaking of which—

"Next Saturday when we go to Scamander Manor, I'd like you to tell Uncle Rolf and Aunt Luna about this okay? The same way you told me," Draco said. 

Rolf was a professor at Beauxbatons Academy, where he taught Magical Zoology, so he was very excited to work with Cae as he matured. Draco would also need to talk to Hermione—when the time came—about sending the boys to Beauxbatons over Hogwarts. 

Cae nodded at that and looked at Draco quizzically. “What do you think I'm sensing? Are there any animals or magical creatures here?" 

“I’m sure there are magical creatures all around us, in Caille and in the lake outside the Manor. I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” Draco reasoned. 

Cae looked at his hands again before nodding. “You’re right. Thank you, Daddy.” 

   
 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou so much Chanda Williams for reviewing this chapter! xo


	22. Malfoy Daughters

Anjou Dower Manor 

Anjou Dower Manor, Kitchen, Winter 2003 

Hermione stood in the kitchen—a large mahogany room with copper fixtures, copper pots and pans and yellow candles—and gently kneaded the dough. Archer and Alexander both watched her, their grey eyes following her every motion. Since she'd woken them up that morning, they had followed her around Anjou Dower Manor. The Malfoy family had arrived in Normandy late the previous night and hadn’t gotten a chance to look around. It was Hermione's first time there, too, having discovered she owned the property some time ago but was too busy to actually visit it. It was literally a large log cabin with twenty suites and seven baths. It was fully furnished, too, with buttery brown sofas, gleaming mahogany tables, large silk covered beds and thick Persian carpets. Hermione learned it had been in the Anjou family for centuries and had a permanent stasis charm on it, which withheld through the centuries and effectively confounded Hermione. She desperately wanted to investigate the spell work that went into this place, but, as soon as the thought crossed her mind, Alexander had started wailing at the top of his lungs. 

"Mother, why are you making cookies when the elves can?" Archer asked hesitantly, his eyebrows lifted. From beside him, Alexander had a similarly confused expression--for a toddler. Since journeying to Normandy for Yule, Alexander had seemed to latch onto Archer, who, it seemed, reminded him the most of Lucius. Hermione would've thought he'd glue himself to Draco, but, although Draco resembled his father in looks, he was nowhere to him in personality. Archer, however, had the same aristocratic mannerisms as Lucius did, which only ever made Hermione and Narcissa laugh. 

"I'm making cookies because it makes Mummy happy. Sometimes Mummy feels sad or gloomy, especially on cold, snowy days, and making cookies, cakes or strudels helps her feel better," Hermione explained. She stopped kneading for a second to place one hand on her lower back and the other on her very pregnant belly. She was nearing eight months now, and that meant constant aches and pains, which Draco often had a topical salve for. 

Archer squinted at her and asked, "So you're sad?" 

"No, your mother just likes to do what I tell her not to do," Draco answered as he walked into the kitchen. He held a bleary-eyed Hugo, who had just woken from a nap. Behind him trailed Rigel, who also looked like he had woken from a nap. 

Hermione straightened as much as she could and rolled her eyes at Draco, who winked back and held up a small pot of brown paste—topical salve—which made her chuckle. That man seemed to know things about her body before she did. It was most likely due to him watching her carry and birth five children prior to this next one. 

"Mummy, are those cookies?" Rigel asked with a yawn. 

Hermione smiled at him and asked, "Were you cuddling with Hugo again, babe?" 

Rigel coloured and raked a hand through those golden-brown curls of his. "He wanted company. I couldn't let him nap by himself." 

Draco rolled his eyes at that and shifted Hugo to look at his son.  A few months before, all their sons got their own bedrooms. At first, it was only supposed to be the triplets getting their own rooms, but Narcissa and Lucius convinced them to extend that to the twins too. All their sons adapted happily except for Rigel, who often sneaked into his brother's rooms for company. It irritated Draco to no end but only made Rigel more endearing to Hermione. 

"We both know that you wanted company. Ry, I told you that your mother, one of the elves, or I would stay with you until you fall asleep at night," Draco said, his eyes on Rigel. 

Hermione watched Rigel fidget a bit and turn his eyes on Archer, who lifted one brow, and then sighed. 

"Father, I think Rigel doesn't like waking up in the dark by himself," Archer chimed, making Draco turn to him with mild amusement. 

Hermione chuckled a bit. "Thank you for your point, Archer. Ry, baby, why didn't you tell us you're afraid of the dark." 

Ryder scowled, looking very much like Draco as he did, and said, "I'm not afraid! I just like the company." 

Hermione met Draco's eyes from across the room. They'd recently been talking about Onyx, the baby kneazle that Cae spent every waking moment with. Currently, Cae was at Malfoy Manor, opting to go straight there, which at first didn't sit well with Hermione or Draco, but they would see their son in a few days for Yule. Hermione has been considering the possibility of Onyx coming to stay at Anjou Manor and serve as a pet to all their boys.  

"Well, for now, babe, I think I may have a solution. You know how you made those pretty blue flames for Mummy and Daddy helped put it into a jar? Maybe I can help you make one for your room if you'd like," Hermione offered. 

Rigel looked at Archer for a second, who looked thoughtful and shrugged, before Rigel nodded. "Yes, please. Can we make the fire the golden kind?" 

Hermione laughed and nodded. 

"Well, now that that's sorted, I think a morning tea is in order. Love, enough with the kneading. Just put a stasis charm on it, and I'm sure Rigel will help you with it later," Draco said. 

Rigel looked at the dough with interest and nodded. "Yes, I can help!" 

Hermione turned to Archer, who lifted one black brow at her, and asked, "How about it, babe? Care to get your hands dirty?" 

Archer looked from her to his amused father and folded his arms. "If Father will help me plant verbena in my room, I'll help you." 

Draco chucked while Hermione laughed. "Deal." 

Page BreakAnjou Dower Manor, Living Room, Winter 2003 

Hermione sat in front of the fireplace running her fingers through Rigel's curls. After morning tea, Draco had left to pick up some last-minute Yule presents. Naturally, Archer and his shadow, Alexander, had requested to go with him, so that he could pick out the perfect present for Narcissa and Lucius. Rigel and Hugo opted to stay home with her. 

"Mummy, you know those books you read us last night? The one about Santa Claus?" Rigel asked from his place on her lap. 

Hermione smiled and nodded. She had recently been introducing bits of Muggle literature into her children's education, and last night she read them  _T_ _'_ _was_ _the Night Before Christmas_  by Clement Clarke Moore. 

"Is Santa Claus real? Is he a magical creature? Can Cae sense him the way he can sense other creatures?" Rigel asked. 

From his spot, Hugo lifted his head to stare at Hermione curiously, too. 

"Santa Claus is based on a Muggle person. Once, long ago there was a very nice man who lived in a poor village. This man was a toymaker; he made wooden trucks and dolls in the way toymakers did in his time. On Christmas or Yule, he would visit all the children in his village and give them toys, not because they paid for them or because he owed it to them, but because he wanted to. Everyone in his village loved him for it and started doing the same. Every year on Christmas, people started giving each other presents." 

"Oh. But how did people remember him?" 

"Through talking about him and writing about what he did. We also remember him through the character Santa Claus," Hermione replied. 

"Archer would've liked to have heard this story," Rigel mused. 

"What story?"  

Hermione started at Cae's head swimming in the fireplace. Hugo sat up and started clapping just as Rigel jumped down onto the heavily-carpeted floors. 

"Cae! Get out of the fire! It's going to hurt you!" Rigel crowed, then lifted his hands and started pushing them against the air. Immediately the flames started shrinking and turning to embers, and Cae's face disappeared. 

"No, baby, your grandfather Lucius is helping him talk to us from Malfoy Manor. This is how wizards and witches communicate: through fireplaces. It's not hurting him, I promise," Hermione soothed, hefting herself up to crouch over a trembling Rigel, who immediately turned to her to bury his face in her neck and throw his arms around her middle. 

"Yeah! It's not hurting me, Ry. Put the flames back so I can see you, mummy and Hugo," Cae said through the embers. 

Rigel turned his head and lifted his palm up then brought them together, enabling the fire to ignite again. Cae's face reappeared and he smiled before asking again, "What story?" 

"I was telling Rigel and Hugo about Santa Claus. I can tell you about it when we arrive in Malfoy Manor this Friday evening if you'd like?" Hermione asked. 

"Okay! Grandmother Narcissa has an early present for you that will be arriving soon. She asked me to tell you to expect a package.  She said she thinks you will like it and to wait for Daddy before you open it." Cae's head disappeared from the flames for a moment. "I have to go now; Onyx wants me to read her a story. Also, Grandfather says the answer to your question is yes." 

"Wait!" Hermione cried, but Cae's face had already disappeared. She knew he was having the time of his life at Malfoy Manor with Onyx, but she finally made the decision with Draco earlier in the day to agree to bring Onyx home with them after Yule. She had written Lucius and Narcissa a letter, and their response through Cae only solidified it. 

A few minutes later, a large brown rectangular package appeared in midair then floated to settle onto the dining room table. Hermione turned to look at it and thought it looked like a painting or portrait of some sort. She sincerely hoped it wasn't a large portrait of her while pregnant—she had agreed to do a photoshoot for  _Witch Secret_  modelling maternity robes that were very low cut and made of whisper-thin silk. She looked fine, but she felt uncomfortable doing it, despite Ginny, Anna, Luna, Azalea and Narcissa raving about it.  _Witch Secret_  had run a full campaign with the photoshoot and even sent Hermione all the clothes she modelled, which Hermione only put on when she needed to twist Draco's arm for something. However, somehow Narcissa managed to get her hands on one of the photos, a particularly saucy one of Hermione looking over one bare shoulder with a yellow silk and lace maternity robe on. The shoulders of the robe were cut off, oddly, and Hermione's hair all but covered her face in long honeyed curls. 

"What do you think it is, Mummy?" Rigel asked just as Tinzy appeared with a plate of shortbread cookies. Hermione sighed. Somehow her infernal house elf had gotten wind that she wanted cookies and made them herself. She rolled her eyes before meeting Rigel's large golden ones then smiled and tweaked his nose. 

"I don't know, babe, but as soon as Daddy and his shadows come back we'll see, won't we?" 

Rigel squinted at her before laughing when he got the joke.

* * *

 

Anjou Dower Manor, Library, Winter 2003 

Hermione walked into the library, having only just put Hugo and Alexander to bed. This library wasn't as big and lofty as the one in Anjou Manor—which she sorely missed—but it was still majestic. It echoed the design of the house but had one large, roaring fire surrounded by tree-shaped bookshelves.  Rigel stood in front of one them with a curious expression while Archer—from Draco's lap—watched him with one eyebrow raised. 

"Mummy, how was this made?" Rigel asked, his voice tinged with awe. 

"I told you: it was made with magic " Archer replied rolling his eyes.  

Draco lifted his gaze and met her amused one before he said, "Not everything is made by magic, Archer, Rigel. Some things are made by men and women to meet a purpose." 

Archer looked up at Hermione as she sat on the couch next to him and asked, "You mean Muggles?" 

"Yes, baby. Muggles rely on their hands to build things like bookcases, cutting boards, houses. They use tools that help them, too, but those tools aren't magic." 

Archer nodded then looked at Rigel, who continued to wander around the library trailing his fingertips along the spines of the books with something akin to reverence. 

Hermione smiled then turned her attention to the package on the long mahogany table in the centre of the room. Draco followed her gaze once more then took out his wand, and, while Archer watched him, he muttered, "Evanesco." 

The brown paper packaging disappeared to reveal a large, ornate painting.  

Hermione got up as gracefully as she could and walked towards the painting, Rigel trailing behind her. 

It was dark in the library save for the fireplace, so Hermione took out her wand and silently lit a few candles before she took in the painting. 

It was a man, one with brilliant blue eyes and red curling hair. He had no beard, which insinuated that he was young when this painting was rendered. He wore an expensive, blue velvet hat and long white velvet robes, which meant he was a wizard or a wise man. He was seated at a table, and his hand was resting on a journal. He wore a silver ring on his finger, which upon further examination looked like a wedding band. 

"You must be my descendant, then." 

Hermione would have fallen if Rigel hadn't wrapped his arms around her and if Draco hadn't been behind her. 

The young man in the painting looked at Hermione as she breathed shallowly in and out with a hand on Rigel's head. 

"That's definitely made with magic," Archer said from behind Draco, peering down at the painting. The man in the painting looked from Hermione to Draco, then to Rigel and Archer. 

"Who are you?" Hermione asked, after a beat. 

The man returned his attention to her. "If you read the plaque on this painting, you would know that I'm William Anjou." 

Hermione looked down at the plaque, which was wrought in goblin gold—she could tell due to the gleam and opulent sheen of it, but the name was written in a language she didn't recognize. 

"Ah, but you don't speak Latin, do you? At least not well enough to decipher. I have been locked away in an old, forgotten castle without respite, so forgive my manners. Who, may I ask, are you?" 

"Hermione Malfoy, but my maiden name—" 

"Malfoy! You are of relation to my wife, Celestina! "he interrupted. 

Hermione looked down at Rigel, who still had his face to her stomach then to Archer who still stood just behind Draco. 

"I'm not, no. I married into the Malfoy name, but my husband is a Malfoy by blood." 

William's eyes turned to rest on Draco before he asked, "And do you have any sisters, aunts, who share your lineage?" 

Draco looked first at Hermione before shaking his head and saying, "No." 

"All is fair, then. Tell me news of your family. I see boys. Have you brought little druids into the world?" William asked. His blue eyes seemed to twinkle. 

Hermione smiled and looked down at Rigel. "They're still babies, but yes. Rigel, Archer, please meet your ancestor, William Anjou." 

Archer walked slowly to stand beside Hermione and Rigel and lifted his chin arrogantly before saying, "I'm Archer." 

"What a fine young man you are, too. You have the look of your kin; my Celestina had black curling hair, as you do. Her eyes were grey before she was cursed." 

"Cursed?" Hermione whispered. 

"Why yes, indeed. Do you not know the story of Celestina Malfoy Anjou? Of how she dealt in black magic that rebounded on her and all her kin?" 

Hermione shook her head, dread seeping over her like ice. 

"Celestina was my wife before she was cursed. She was the eldest daughter of Cain Malfoy and heir, but, as she was a daughter and not a son, she could inherit nothing but a dowry. Cain Malfoy was the distinction that female heirs were of the same ilk as the creatures that roamed the woodlands of England and Wales. He had no use for his daughter except to give her in marriage to me, and although I came to love her she wasn't happy. She was broken, damaged from all the years of abuse rendered by her father. She never spoke of it but I know she held a black fury for him and did not wish to see him ever again. One night, after discovering she was pregnant with a son I invited our relations over to celebrate our good fortune, and her father came with his newly pregnant wife. He wished us a good fortune because we would have the son, a new druid. 

 Seeing and hearing her father that night made her snap. She left Anjou Manor that night to return in the morning with a dark tome of curses and spells. In that tome was a dark spell that she would cast on her father and both the Malfoy and the Anjou line would pay for it. Once she enacted it her father was slain but it came with a price. A curse was born from the spell, one that would make it so the son that grew in her belly became a girl. It also blighted the Malfoy line and cursed all its daughters and would make them the very creatures Cain Malfoy likened them to. " 

Hermione laid one hand on the mound of her belly before she asked, "How did the curse manifest on the Malfoy line, what do you mean by creatures?" 

William looked at Draco before turning to Hermione. "I can only tell you what happened to Celestina. After the curse was enacted, it changed her magical signature, and she became something else."  

"What did she become?" Draco asked hoarsely. 

"You have nothing to fear; I'm sure your family took precautions and measures as any pureblood family would. It appears the curse is broken for you have strong sons and another on the way "William reassured, looking at Hermione's belly. 

"What did she become?" Hermione asked, her voice high—frightening Rigel, who squeaked. 

William turned to look at Hermione. "She became the first of her kind, a Veela."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou Chanda Williams for reviewing this :) xo


	23. A Dark Shadow

Malfoy Manor, Living Room Yule 2003 

Lucius stared at his son and his heavily pregnant wife with shock and cold fury. Draco had arrived with his family in tow a couple of hours ago and asked if they could talk while the children took naps. It was midday, and although Cae, Archer and Rigel didn't necessarily need naps, they still went down without a fuss. Lucius had a sneaking suspicion that they would seek each other out and discuss everything that had happened while they were separated. Cae certainly would have stories—having been at Malfoy Manor for the past week, and, judging by the way Archer looked when he'd Flooed in after Draco, he had something to share as well. Never in Lucius' wildest dreams would he have imagined the news would be this, nor that he would have to deal with it. The Malfoy family, like any other wizarding family, had its demons, but Lucius never dreamt he would be facing one. 

"You're having a girl?" Narcissa asked, pressing her clasped hands to her lips.  

Hermione looked at Draco then nodded, but Draco's eyes were trained on Lucius'. "What are you not telling us, Father?" 

Lucius scowled and took a few calming breaths before he addressed his son. "Our ancestor Septimus told me a story once.When his wife bore him a son, she also gave him a daughter. He did what was best for his family, and it was never spoken about it again. After Luisa and Hermione's ancestor, Eliza Anjou, cast their curse the threat of having daughters subsided. I never thought to counsel you Draco, but daughters born to our family aren't daughters at all--they're abominations. They're born veela, in the purest form. Not diluted like the ones we know today, but magically stronger and more untamed. It was my fault that I never told you this, but heed my counsel now."

"What counsel? " Draco shot back, his eyes flashing and his face turning pink. 

Narcissa looked from her seething husband to her equally emotional son and then turned her eyes to a very pale Hermione, who sat with a disturbed look on her face. 

 

Lucius turned his attention to rest squarely on Hermione's belly when he said, "Get rid of it before it can ruin our name." 

At that, Hermione lurched to the side and threw up. Narcissa immediately stood and rushed to her side, whipping out her wand to clean and disinfect the soiled carpet before she summoned a waste basket. 

Draco just sat there in utter shock as his father stood and left the room in three strides. After a couple of moments, he turned to his shaking wife and equally stunned mother. Hermione lifted her head to stare at Draco, her face tear-streaked and white as bone. 

Tinzy rushed into the room, wringing her tiny hands as she inspected Hermione before turning large eyes to Draco. 

"Mistress needs rest. Her baby is in distress. The stresses aren't good for its". 

* * *

 

Malfoy Nursery, Yule 2003 

Draco sat in the rocking chair beside the beds where Alexander and Hugo dozed. From across the room, Rigel slept on his bed next to Cae, who held Onyx. Archer, however, was perched on his bed across from Draco, and his large grey eyes were boring into his father's. 

"Is Mother alright?" Archer asked slowly, his grey eyes flying over Draco's face. 

Draco turned to look at him and frowned. If he wasn't in his right mind, he'd think he was looking at his maternal grandfather, Cygnus Black, as a child. He'd been shown pictures of Cygnus in his youth, and Archer was his spitting image. However, as much Archer resembled Draco`s side of the family, he was utterly devoted to Hermione.  

Even though Archer wasn't as openly affectionate as Rigel—who forever was trying to make Hermione laugh or smile—he loved her just as equally in his sly, quiet way. Draco knew Archer felt something was amiss; he was an especially intuitive child and knew something was inherently wrong. 

"She`s just very tired from carrying the baby in her belly," Draco replied, smiling faintly. He turned to watch Alexander sit up and whimper for Hermione.  

Archer watched his father amble back and sit across from him again with Alexander before asking, "Are you sure?" 

Draco cast his eyes to the ceiling before turning them to meet Archer`s, who now had his eyes narrowed on him. 

"Your mother is sleeping, Archer. I assure you your father is not lying. We had a discussion a while ago that made her upset, so she needs time to recharge from it," came the smooth, lilting voice of Narcissa who walked elegantly into the nursery. 

She walked over to Hugo`s bed and laid a cool hand on his forehead and waited until his bright grey eyes opened and focused on her, then she lifted him into her arms and walked over to Draco. 

Archer looked at his resigned father to his grandmother and sighed before reiterating, "Is she well? Will she be coming to help us get ready?" 

Narcissa met Draco`s turbulent eyes before answering. "She will be, my darling. As for your next question, that’s why I`m here. I`m going to help you all get dressed while your father makes sure your mother is faring well." 

Archer turned his eyes to Draco, who could easily read the lines of distress on his son's face. He knew Hermione wasn`t doing well, somehow.  Just then Rigel sat up, his hair a golden crown of curls around his flushed face as he said, "The flying monkeys are here." 

Narcissa laughed. "My, but you do dream vividly, don`t you, my boy?" 

Draco laughed and got up to walk over to Rigel`s bed and sit down. Rigel scrubbed his eyes with a smile about to tell his mother when he stopped, alert, and scanned the room before asking, "Where`s mummy?" 

Cae groaned before lifting his head, then peered around the room before meeting Narcissa`s blue eyes. He sat up then and looked at his father with concern. 

"Where is Mummy, Daddy?" Rigel asked, his bright eyes flashing with accusation. 

"She`s sleeping, Ry," Draco replied before turning his eyes to Archer, who lifted one eyebrow back at him. 

Cae turned from Draco to Archer, who shook his head once at him. Cae looked at his grandmother and asked, "Is everything ok?" 

Draco got up and sighed once before placing Alexander in Narcissa`s arms and walking out of the room while Archer, Rigel and Cae scrambled behind him. 

Malfoy Manor, Draco`s Room, Yule 2003 

Hermione lay curled on her side on Draco`s childhood bed, clutching a pillow. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth slowly and steadily. Her heart was racing, and her hands were sweaty as she contemplated Lucius`s words. He essentially wanted her to magically abort the child that grew in her belly. Her child, her daughter,  _her world_. She couldn`t stop thinking about Lucius` story, of how Septimus Malfoy 'took care' of his infant daughter. She couldn`t imagine what the mother of that child must have went through. Hermione had five boys, and she loved every one of them as they came from her. They were a product made of the love that grew between her and Draco, so she couldn`t imagine watching them be harmed or worse. 

She sat up a bit in bed and said, "I just can't imagine what that woman went through." 

"Of course, you wouldn`t know what she went through, Hermione Malfoy, because you did not bear witness to it like I have," mused the high voice of Luisa Malfoy. 

Hermione turned to stare into the portrait of Luisa Malfoy`s clear blue eyes and sighed with resignation. It seemed she was forever speaking to portraits, especially of the Anjou and Malfoy variation. 

"Forgive my intrusion, but every portrait in this manor knows of the discussion you had with Lucius. We all heard what he said and how you reacted when he told you what you must do, as the other wives in our family have done." 

Hermione froze and asked, "Were you one of those wives?" 

 

"I only gave my Eos sons. Strong, fair-haired boys and I loved them all the days of my life, but I knew of the dangers of having a daughter. Eos counselled me when I fell pregnant like every Malfoy husband did before him. Before Eliza and I cast our curse, my husband's grandfather Rickard was married to a witch named Livia. She was beautiful, kind and gifted but her firstborn was a girl and not the boy her husband wanted.

Eos told me that after his grandmother birthed the babe, his grandfather stunned her and threw their infant daughter off the balcony. He told me that his grandmother mourned that babe all the days of her life. She even spoke of her often, of how she was born with vivid red hair--a colour so bright and vivid it hurt her eyes to stare. The babe only looked at her once too, but with large silver eyes without pupils."

"How can Lucius expect me to do as he asks? There must be another way. I will not damage this family, but I also will not murder my child." 

Luisa looked back at her with pity in her eyes and said, "He isn`t doing this out of hate or spite. He is doing this for the sake of your unborn child. When she is born, she cannot take the name Malfoy nor will she be a witch and allowed admission into a proper wizarding school. She will be an outcast and will cast a dark shadow on your family because of it. You know what happened to Celestina. She was a normal, if slighted, witch before she became what she did, and it made her into what she is today—a dark shadow of herself." 

"And Livia was okay with this? She accepted that her husband murdered her child? I apologize, but I cannot wrap my mind around that. If my husband did that I—" 

"He would do it for your family—your boys that I`ve seen grow through my portrait," Luisa interrupted, then softened. "He would do it for the child, as his predecessors have in the past." 

"How do you know? Luisa, are there any portraits or written records of this happening?" 

"There is a tome in Malfoy library. It is hidden behind a glass shelf, and it was preserved with a stasis charm. It belonged to a Malfoy wife known as Miranda. She lived in the 15th century and was wife to Marcus Malfoy, brother to Cain. I believe you can find your answers there." 

"Mummy!" 

Hermione turned to watch Rigel jump onto the bed before Draco caught him around the middle and hoisted him up with a wry smile. From his side stood Archer, who wore a concerned frown, and Cae, who held Onyx and regarded Hermione curiously. 

"Are you alright, Mother?" Archer asked, still frowning. 

Hermione reached up and took Rigel from Draco. "I am, baby. I just wasn’t feeling very well downstairs." 

Cae came to his father to sit beside Hermione and peer into her face. “We can bake something if you’d like. Archer told me that baking makes you feel better.” 

Hermione turned to look at Archer, whose face was slightly pink, and his eyes were narrowed at his brother in mutiny. 

Draco laughed lowly before sitting beside Hermione to comb his fingers through her curls. He looked at her and she knew he was silently asking her if she was indeed okay. She smiled at him, placed a hand on her belly, and kissed Rigel's head before nodding. 

“Is there any way we could go to the library? I think that will make Mummy feel better,” Hermione said. Her eyes flickered once to Luísa's portrait, but it seemed Luisa had left quietly. 

“Yes, please! Daddy, can we?” Rigel asked excitedly. It was now becoming apparent that Rigel shared Hermione’s love of books. Hermione knew he enjoyed it the most when she read to them; his little face always glowed when the topic of books or reading came up.  

Draco rolled his eyes humorously before replying. "if we must, we must.” 

Malfoy Manor Library, Yule 2003 

 Hermione trailed her fingers over the spines with a critical eye. Rigel and Cae sat with Draco across from her, each with colourful picture books open. Draco wore an amused expression as Cae read loudly from a book about trains while Rigel glared at him. Nearby, Archer stood with a small tome in his hands; however, his eyes weren`t on the book: they were on her. 

“Is the book you`re looking for not there?”  

Hermione tilted her head towards her precocious son and rolled her eyes. Archer may only be four, but he was as sly and calculating as they came. He had all the makings of an Auror, which Harry constantly told her; however, that meant she or Draco could never hide too much from him. 

She considered him before flicking her eyes over to the glass cabinet which everyone in the manor knew was Lucius`s section of the library. 

“It isn`t, no. It`s in your grandfather`s cabinet, just there,” Hermione replied, pointing towards the glass cabinet. 

Archer followed her finger and then frowned, perplexed before he called out, “Tinzy!” 

Hermione`s eyes flew to Draco and her boys, and although Rigel and Cae were still reading, Draco`s amused eyes were now on her. She gave him a look before Tinzy popped into the library and bowed to Archer. 

“Young master Archer calls Tinzy?” 

“Yes, Tinzy. Can you please bring me Miranda Malfoy`s journal?” Hermione spoke up, her eyes flickering to the door. Archer studied her face curiously, and she knew that he knew what she was doing was meant to be covert.  

Instantly, a small leather book appeared in Hermione`s hands, and she smiled and said, “Thank you, Tinzy.”  

Tinzy nodded once then popped away. Archer came closer to peer down at the book and started when Hermione took his hand to walk over to a black leather couch. She took out her wand and cast a notice me not charm before she opened the book. 

Everything about the book was old, from the grainy leather cover to the whisper-thin pages that were almost translucent. The writing, thankfully, was in English but very faint and loopy. Hermione delicately scanned the pages, not knowing exactly what she was looking for. Luisa only said the answers would be in this book, but she didn`t give her a date or anything. 

 “What are we looking for?" Archer asked softly, his grey eyes following his mother`s motions. 

“The date Miranda gave birth to her twin girls” Hermione replied quietly, before stopping at a worn page, one with blurred words, which Hermione deduced were smudged by tears. 

"I think we've found the date," Hermione whispered, then bent down to read. 

 _June 6, 1589_  

 _I write this entry with a heavy heart. Today, just as dawn came so did my children Katherine Josephine Malfoy and Anne Elizabeth Malfoy. They were born within seconds of another, more beautiful and pure than words can describe. My Katherine had the look of my lord husband, with her milky white skin and high cheekbones. But when she opened her eyes they were pure silver, the hue of_ _lightning b_ _efore it lights the sky. She had similarly_ _coloured_ _curls that I envisioned would spiral down as she grew. My dainty Anne was just as fair, with lovely black hair and eyes as ethereal as her sister. She was born smaller but had roses in her cheeks and stars in her eyes. I loved them before I knew them, but within a blink of an eye, they were gone. My lord husband took them from me while I slept and came to tell me that my beautiful, baby girls were cursed creatures. He told me they were not worthy of the name Malfoy, so he got rid of them. I didn't ask how or what he did, but I have never been so frightened in all my life. I love my lord husband, and, as a woman, I could not contest him but how could a man, a wizard, harm two innocent children? He told me we would try again, so that I may give him the boys he needed. I know that he is still grieving for his elder brother, Cain. He was slain by our niece, or what was our niece many weeks before this. But I am frightened for the future children I will bear him. I hope that they not be girls, for their sake and for the sake of my soul._  

 _I realize Marcus did this for the good of our family, but he can't know of the pain I carry. He can't know that I would've given my very life to save Anne and Katherine. It's only been a few hours, Marcus is sleeping beside me, and the wet nurse was dismissed hours before. I can't sleep for fear of forgetting my Anne, my Katherine, so I will write down how I remember them. Katherine's skin smelled like the roses in my grandmother's garden, so lush and floral. Anne's hair was as soft as the rain that falls before a rainbow, and she had such bright, silver eyes. They both knew who I was when they looked upon me, just as I'm sure every baby does when they look upon their mother. I won't forget them, and I wish that no woman will go through what I have endured._  

 _Becoming a Malfoy was a wondrous thing, but now there`s a dark shadow on my life, one that I cannot see through._  

 _-Miranda_  

Hermione closed the book with a heavy heart. Her throat felt clogged, and her eyes were wet. She turned to look into Archer's eyes and gathered him closely. 

“Mother, are you frightened because of what that man, William, said to you? Will my sister be born a creature?" Archer whispered. 

She drew back and peered into his face. “I am worried, baby boy. Not because of what the man said, but because of what it means.” 

“What does it mean?” 

Hermione looked over at Draco, who was talking quietly to Rigel, while he had his arm over Cae`s shoulders. 

“It means, baby, that we can`t stay here—we have to leave.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou so much to Chanda Williams for reviewing this chapter :)


	24. Cursed

Lucius paced back and forth in his office. The two fingers of whiskey he had did nothing but rile him further. He had no wish to deal with a curse that had blighted his family for centuries, nor did he wish to deal with the consequences of addressing the curse. The last time a daughter had been born to the Malfoy line was when his ancestor Livia Malfoy bore Alice Malfoy, but that had been in the late 17th century. It was common for infants to die—and it was said that no one ever questioned his ancestor, Septimius, who had held a seat in the Wizengamot.  Now, in the 20th century, births were recorded, presided over, in fact. When Hermione gave birth to the triplets, she would've died if not for the mediwitch who tended to her. Archer would've died, as well, if the medi-witch hadn’t catch his jaundice on time. Of course, there had been mediwitches in the 18th century, but they had not been as well-versed as they are now, nor had they had the advanced potions and tonics. Even if he were to play his hand and rid his family of this creature, he would go to Azkaban and rot there for all his days. He would never see his family again, and he knew that they wouldn`t commiserate over him.  

"You're pacing too much Lucius. Sit down and have another sodding drink. Have you decided what to do about the girl?" 

Lucius turned to stare into the hard eyes of Abraxas Malfoy, who sneered down at him from his portrait. 

Lucius strode to his chair, sat down, and considered his father. " What would you propose I do, Father? Stun my daughter-in law the way our ancestor Septimius did his wife? Draco wouldn`t have it. " 

Abraxas shifted in the chair he was sitting in and regarded his son from his portrait. "You will do what is necessary for the sake of our family. We are Malfoys, we do not allow these creatures in our ranks." 

Lucius stared down at his hands and contemplated his late father's words. He knew that Draco would never harm a hair on his children's heads.  Hermione was also especially protective over this child, as it was created without the use or influence of a fertility inducing potion. Not to say that he believed she cared less for her boys. He knew she was a devout mother to all five of her children and had even put off her career in Ancient Runes to tend to them. So, he was certain that what his father suggested couldn't and wouldn't ever be accomplished short of using the Imperius curse on either of them.  While that had initially appealed, it would severely harm the overall psyche of the family. He didn't want to bring any sort of mental or psychological harm to his daughter-in law, son, or their children, who were especially in tune with Hermione. Rigel in particular reflected Hermione's every emotion and personality trait. But, at the same time, trueborn Malfoy daughters were not something to take lightly. There was a reason why his ancestress was murdered by her father Septimus, and those like her by their fathers—they were cursed.  

"You're thinking too much about this, Lucius. Cast a spell on the girl and be done with it. She and Draco will thank you in the end," Abraxas said. 

Lucius rolled his eyes then turned just as Narcissa glided into the room, face tight.

"Have you seen Draco, Hermione, or the children? I can't locate them anywhere, and the festivities are to start soon." 

Lucius' face clouded over before he turned to the window. 

* * *

 

Anjou Manor, Yule 2003 

Hermione stepped out of the fireplace with Draco, who held both Alexander and Hugo, a moment before Tinzy popped into the living room with the triplets.  Tinzy then placed one hand on Alexander and the other on Hugo before disapparating. 

Cae sighed heavily, earning a look from Hermione, before he plopped down on the couch. In their haste to leave, Hermione decreed that for the time being, at least, Onyx would stay at Malfoy Manor. Cae, for a four-year old, was decidedly upset but Hermione knew he knew better than to throw a tantrum. She even caught the look Archer gave him—the quick shake of his head—before Cae nodded sullenly. 

"Mother, does this mean we're not getting our presents?" Archer asked, looking between Draco and Hermione. 

Hermione sighed and turned to the triplets, who all looked a tad crestfallen, she assumed, because they wouldn't be spending Yule at Malfoy Manor. Hermione threw a look over her shoulder at Draco, who sighed then dropped down to his haunches so he could look Archer in the eye. 

"I think that if you and your brothers follow Nixie, Sky and Berry upstairs to get changed for the night and go to sleep without a fuss, you might wake up to some." 

Rigel turned on his tail and rushed ahead of the amused looking house elves, with Archer and Cae following in his wake. Archer gave Draco one long look, as if he knew he was being tricked somehow, but he kept walking. 

Draco then turned to walk over to the coffee table, which held a silver tray of crystal snifters. He picked one up and watched it magically fill with the cognac he favored. 

"I know what you're going to say, but, Draco, I couldn't—we couldn't stay there. What your father was asking us to do? No sane person would murder their child, regardless of their magical signature." 

Draco sat down heavily before responding. "I realize that, but Mother will be upset that we left without telling them." 

"What would you have had me do? Tell Narcissa that I felt unsafe in the manor and had to leave?" Hermione hissed. 

Draco shrugged then turned to the fire. "They never told me about this. Not one of my relatives ever spoke about this to me. I suppose they thought they wouldn't need to because of the blood pact terms that Luisa and your ancestor agreed on. But I wouldn't put it past my ancestors to murder innocent children—creatures or not." 

Hermione looked at her hands as she responded. " I spoke to Luisa about it earlier this morning. She said every Malfoy husband warned their wives of the possibility of it happening. Even if they did bear creatures, couldn't they have given them away? Why kill them?" 

"I imagine in some cases those children were given away, or the current Veela population wouldn't be what it is today. I can't say for certain that that theory is 100% accurate, but I would place a wager on it." 

Hermione nodded with a thoughtful look on her face before she asked, "So what would you say we do?" 

Draco looked back at her gamely. "Research. We look at all variables and come up with the best solution." 

He walked closer, took her face in his hands, and kissed her forehead before ambling over to his potion lab, drink in hand. She knew he always found solace in his potions, so she let him go without discussing what was already becoming intention in her mind. 

She had been thinking about this a lot given the short timeframe. She could research like Draco suggested, but all she would find would be records in the Malfoy family library. She could consult portraits—living memories of past Malfoy wives. She could consult people like Minerva McGonagall or Poppy Pomfrey regarding magical adoption. But she knew deep down what she would ultimately do. She wanted to bear a strong, healthy, curse-free child. She desperately wanted her child to grow and learn and live with her brothers. She wanted her child to know her and Draco and feel safe always with them. But the only way she could do that would be in finding a loophole or way of negating the curse and the only person who would know how would be its caster, Celestina Malfoy Anjou.  

She wrung her hands before she started walking quickly and resolutely in the other direction, up the stairs until she came to a set of French doors. From down the hall she could hear Cae's laughter, and, if she strained, she could make out Alexander talking to Ice. She looked back once before taking out her wand and waving it silently in front of the set of French doors. 

* * *

 

Anjou Library, Yule 2003 

"I knew you would come." 

Hermione froze just as she met large silver eyes: the eyes of Celestina Malfoy Anjou. 

She was as young, effervescent, and hypnotic as she was the last time Hermione saw her portrait. But now that Hermione knew she wasn't looking at a strangely beautiful witch but a Veela, she noticed things she didn't before. She noticed an eerie glow coming off Celestina's skin. She noticed her molten silver eyes that had no pupil. She noticed the absolute stillness of Celestina's portrait, and, above all she noticed the cruel way Celestina smiled at her. 

 "Then you have come to ask what you can do to save your child from its fate?" 

Hermione took a steadying breath then walked forward so that she was standing directly in front of Celestina’s portrait. 

"Yes." 

Celestina’s smile widened before she said, "But you must know that I won't simply tell you. How will it serve me to tell you how to save your child? Do you think that because you`re my descendant I feel pity or sympathy for your plight? I am gone from this world; my body and my possessions are all but dust now. What will you offer me sweet, pretty Hermione? " 

Hermione looked down at her hands before replying. "Anything within my power to give you, except my boys." 

"I can work with anything. A pity about your sons; a blood sacrifice is powerful, but it wouldn`t serve me unless I was alive. No, what I really want is for my sire`s line to suffer—even in death, I hate his line. If I could, I would wipe it away altogether. But, since I cannot harm your boys, I have something else in mind that I think will meet both our ends. The only way you can save your child is if she is not born a Malfoy, for you see my curse only plighted Malfoy true-born daughters. In order for you to save your child, you must make her a bastard." 

Hermione`s mind was buzzing, she couldn`t think beyond what Celestina was telling her. There was a way for her baby to be born without the curse. There was a way to save her family. 

"How do I do that?" 

At that Celestina`s smile widened. "By repudiating your husband, of course. But I believe it comes with a cost, my dear. I told you that you would be paying for breaking my curse, but it won't be by my hand. It will be by yours." 

"I don’t understand." 

Celestina tossed her hair and looked bored. "You married the Malfoy heir because of a blood pact, did you not? If you repudiate him, you would be forsaking the pact. You will save your daughter, but it would also mean that—" 

"I would die. It would mean I would die," Hermione said softly. 

"It would also make your sons Anjous. It would reinstate your line and give it sons like all your ancestors must have yearned for, for generations.  However, it would also mean your husband would also die without heirs and the Malfoy line would disband." 

"I can`t do that. I won`t" Hermione said. 

"Oh, sweet girl, I think you will."  

Hermione sat down heavily on the couch, one hand resting on her belly, the other on her heart, while Celestina laughed cruelly from her portrait. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou so much to Chanda Williams for reviewing this chapter :) xxo


	25. Family

Anjou Manor, Yule 2003 

Draco was sitting on the floor outside the library when Hermione quietly stepped out. She was ashen-faced and shaky, which made him stand and take her cold hands in his. 

"You heard everything, didn't you?" 

Draco searched her face then said, "let's go back to the living room yeah? I think we need to discuss this a bit." 

He led her across the hall and down the staircase until they were both standing once more in front of the roaring fireplace.  

She sat down slowly then looked up at him. "I--", but he closed his eyes briefly before saying, "Hermione, we locked up the library all those years ago for a reason. We were told by various sources not to speak with Celestina. She isn't working in our best interest."  

He turned his face to the fire and drank from a glass of cognac before continuing. "She is, for all intents and purposes, a witch that was scorned; a witch that cursed her own family and all its descendants to get back at her father." He turned to her now and quietly asked, "Do you think it hasn't crossed my mind to talk to her and see what she had to say? But I didn't because I knew it was unsafe, not just for myself but for our family. The only good thing that has come from this is that she gave us the information we didn't have before." 

Hermione was staring at her folded hands when he bent down so he was at eye-level with her. She shook her head. "You`re right though. It still doesn`t excuse me going behind your back to speak to my--our--ancestor. I was just--I can`t explain it. I don`t want our child, daughter or son, to ever feel unloved. I couldn`t stand the idea of that. Draco, please know that I wouldn't have gone through with the plan Celestina gave me. If I learned anything growing up with Harry it's that sacrifice doesn`t help anyone. I wouldn`t have left you alone with our boys. Draco, please believe me when I say that." 

Draco cupped her face in his hand and shook his head weakly. "Of course you wouldn`t. Merlin knows I`d lose my marbles in a fortnight without you here. But, it's comforting to know you wouldn`t repudiate me. I wouldn`t be able to stand that." 

"We`ll find another way.  Celestina spelt it out for us like you said. We just need to figure out how to magically change our daughter's last name." 

Draco got up and started to pace. "The only thing I can think of is magical adoption. But that only works with witches and wizards welcoming a child into their family. There would have to be a ritual and everything, and we would need to clear it with the Ministry of Magic." 

"Your parents can`t adopt her because that would be mute. You say a witch or wizard can adopt her, what about a squib?" 

"I can't answer that. I never studied magical law; I don’t know how magical adoptions work" 

She stared at him for a moment, mulling over that information trying desperately to think who would know. 

She blinked. It was obvious. Summoning a sheet of paper, she quickly penned a letter then crouched before the fireplace, threw in some Floo powder and shouted, "Potter Manor!" 

Potter Manor, January 2004 

Hermione stepped out of the Floo with Draco into Potter Manor a week later and just smiled at the scene before her just as Draco immediately turned pink. 

Sitting across from them was Harry, who held his daughter Lily Dorea—a three-year-old with long blue-black curls and bright violet eyes—on his lap. Beside him sat a glowing Azalea who held James Sirius—a green-eyed drowsy baby—to her naked breast while he nursed.  

Hermione threw one exasperated look at Draco, but she couldn’t blame him. Azalea was a peculiar witch in the same way that Luna Scamander was. She was obscenely clever but chose to ignore a lot of English customs, or polite society customs on occasion. For example, she wore designer muggle skirts and silk blouses to work despite the looks she got from other ministry witches, who wore customary robes. She also insisted on adding pepper-up to her tea and often had smoke coming out of her ears when she did her marketing in Diagon Alley. On this occasion and many like it previously, she was nursing James Sirius while only wearing paisley shorts.  Hermione often envied her nerve and her striking features and couldn’t fault Harry for being so smitten with her.  

"Have we interrupted?" 

Harry broke his gaze from his wife to turn sheepish eyes on her and Draco, whose face was very pink now. 

"Azalea, we have visitors" Harry smiled, turning back to his wife who gently lifted James Sirius to her shoulder and patted him on the back until he burped. 

"Hermione! Draco! What a pleasure, I assume you're here to talk about the letter you sent two Sundays ago?" she asked, smiling at them. 

Hermione just nodded. She sent the letter via Floo a few days ago, but Harry had been in Ireland on business, and Azalea wrote back saying she would need a few days to gather information but invited them over this evening. 

"We want to know if it's possible to organize and perform before Hermione's due date?" Draco said, his eyes still cast down.  

Harry stood up with Lily, who yawned widely and wrapped her small arms around her father's neck, before saying, "I'm going to put her down for the evening. I'll be back shortly." 

Hermione smiled at him then moved to sit on the couch across from Azalea, who placed a now sleeping James Sirius on her lap before magically summoning a few sheets of paper. 

"We could have the ritual done the moment she's born or mere minutes before.  The only thing is Hermione, the baby cannot go to a muggle or a squib for it to work. As it’s a magical adoption, it will change the baby's magical signature to match her new adopted family's one.  Harrys told me about your parents, and I know that this would have been a beautiful way to reconnect with them. But, I also know their memories of the magical world and have been wiped—significantly. They also live in Australia, have muggle professions and no longer have roots in England. It would be an uphill battle on your part to arrange for them to be here, mentally and physically, in time for your baby to be born. By my estimation, you look like you're due any day now." 

Hermione's face paled, and she turned to an equally pale Draco, who turned to meet her eyes. After a few moments of silence, Hermione turned to look at a very solemn Azalea and asked, "What do you suggest we do? This is the only solution we could think of. My parents are the only viable alternative; they're the only family I've got left." 

"Am I not your family, Hermione?" 

Everyone in the room turned to look at Harry, framed in the hallway. He came closer to sit beside his best friend and take her cold hands into his. 

"Azalea and I would gladly adopt your daughter, 'Mione. I consider you my family, and I would do anything for you. You have been by my side since Hogwarts all those years ago. Even when Ron left you still stood with by me. Let me do this for you. Let me help you now." 

Hermione turned to Draco who had turned pale again, worry written across his face. She knew what was going through his mind, or she had an inkling of it. Draco and Harry were friends now, but they hadn't always been. While at Hogwarts they were always on opposite ends of a duel. She couldn’t blame Draco for not wanting Harry Potter, his childhood nemesis, to adopt his child. 

Hermione watched as he turned to Harry and said, " I would owe you a life-debt, Potter if you were to do this for me—for us.  I would, however, want you more involved in my life. I want to see her as much as possible, be there for her. I want your word that she would never be harmed, nor feel unloved and isolated, because she won't be a true Potter." 

Harry took Hermione's hand and squeezed it before replying, "You have my word on all of that and more, Malfoy. Your daughter will always have a place with my family, but she'll know from the start that she's a Malfoy and that this decision was made out of love." He turned to Azalea then, who was crying softly while she held her sleeping son and asked, "How would we do it in time before the curse manifests?" 

Azalea turned to Hermione, wiping her tears before saying, "Like I said we would need to do within minutes before she's born. I suggest Hermione have a home birth here at Potter Manor so that we will be on hand to perform the ritual." 

Draco nodded once and looked at Hermione. "Looks like you'll be staying with Potter for a while". 

Hermione was crying when she pulled Harry into a bone-crushing hug. "Thank you, Harry. Thank you so much." 

Harry chuckled. "Don’t thank me yet. I don’t think your boys will be especially pleased to not have you at home. How was Yule by the way? Did Archer like Lily's gift?" 

Draco laughed at that. Lily Dorea was very close in age to the triplets, and they all got along magnificently the moment they set eyes on each other. However, Lily had started to take a shine to Archer lately, much to his own bafflement and his brother's amusement. Yule morning was quite the event for the Malfoy family, especially for Archer. 

* * *

 

  _Anjou Manor, Yule 2003_

_"Mummy! Father!"_

_Hermione stood behind the kitchen island with a tired smile on her face as Rigel, Cae and Hugo scurried into the room._ _Archer and Alexander came behind them, both looking slightly grumpy but eager for presents. Draco, in turn, came into the kitchen and scooped up Alexander, who turned in his father's arms happily to hug him. Archer frowned at them and rolled his eyes before turning to meet his mother'_ _s_ _gaze_ _. He immediately gave her a soppy smile to rival Rigel when she knelt in front of him holding a silvery wrapped present peppered with tiny holes with a green bow out to him._

_"Someone sent this by owl the moment your_ _F_ _ather and I woke up. I took it as a sign that you should get the first gift of Yule this year_ _._ **** _" she smiled._

_Archer looked at his brothers, who all wore varying looks of jealousy and curiosity on their faces before walking over to the table. He star_ _ed at the box then threw a speculative look at his parents and_ _asked,_ _"_ _W_ _ho it is from?_ _"_

_Hermione smiled widely before turning to Draco_ _,_ _who_ _replied,_ _"_ _H_ _ow about you open it and find out?_ _"_

_Archer turned back to the box and proceeded to gently peel back the wrapping paper and untie the bow with the ease and patience of someone years older. He stared for a couple of moments before reaching in to lift out three glass mason jars with tiny air holes on the lids. Inside the jars was soil, and labels were attached to them in a glimmering script. One was called Easter Lily_ _._ _T_ _he next was called Calla Lily,_ _and_ _the last said_ _Wild Lily._

_Archers face instantly turned pink and he turned to his now smiling mother, who laughed "_ _I think you may have your answer_ _,_ _babes._ _"_

_He immediately turned pink._

* * *

 

"He did." Hermione smiled then looked at Draco, who was shaking his head with a smile.  

"She made us take the present to the owlery in Diagon Alley where they ensure the exact time of delivery. I think our girl is smitten with your Archer, Hermione," Azalea giggled. 

Hermione laughed at that. She was pretty sure Archer was equally smitten because after his brothers ribbed him for having a girlfriend he gently picked up the mason jars and carried them to his private greenhouse—a gift from Hermione and Draco, located on the main floor of Anjou Manor. 

"Well, you're certainly right about my children not being pleased with Hermione away. I would bet 50 galleons that Rigel will go into hysterics the moment I tell him, " Draco mused, then got up to say goodnight to Azalea and Harry before ushering a now slightly emotional looking Hermione to the fireplace.

Anjou Manor, January 2004

Much later Hermione lay awake in bed while Draco snored softly beside her. She couldn't sleep because she had so much on her mind. How would the magical adoption work? Would her daughter have to stay at Potter Manor now? Would Azalea Potter be her daughter's mother? Where would Draco and her fit into this? What would she tell her boys? She knew between her, Draco, Harry and Azalea they would smooth and clarify this so it made sense for everyone. It was better to dwell on what she did know. She knew her daughter would take on the surname of Potter. She knew that Harry and Azalea would prevent her daughter from turning into a Veela. She knew that Harry would never bar her nor Draco from visiting Potter Manor if it was decided that her daughter should live there. She knew that in a couple of hours she would be packing her things to move over to Potter Manor for the next week or so--Azalea was right in saying she would be due any day now. 

She turned over a bit and felt a tiny kick in her belly making her smooth a hand over it and vowing silently to her daughter, " I won't let anything happen to you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou Chanda Williams for editing this chapter! xoxo


	26. Lucius`s Plan

Anjou Master Bedroom, January 2004 

Hermione woke up slowly and peered up into the anxious face of Rigel Malfoy. 

"Mummy, Daddy told Cae and I that you're leaving for a couple of days. I was wondering if I could come with you?" 

Hermione smiled sleepily at him and yawned heavily before patting the side of her bed. Rigel jumped up and snuggled into her at once. Draco came into the room with Hugo in his arms and Cae trailing behind him to roll his eyes and groan. Hermione just laughed because she knew exactly what he was thinking.  

While she knew that Draco loved all their children equally and took pride in them, she also knew that Rigel continuously baffled him for being so soft-hearted, sensitive and un-Malfoy like. The Malfoy family, like the Blacks, were a proud, aristocratic family. They yielded equally snooty, well-mannered wizards for centuries until Rigel Malfoy came along and broke tradition. Archer came up behind his father and scoffed at his brother. 

"I thought father already told you, Rigel," Archer drawled from his spot beside Draco. "Mother is just going to Potter Manor for a week." 

Hermione threw one exasperated look at Draco, who was smirking proudly down at Archer, then turned back to Rigel, his face buried in her shoulder. "Babes, your brother is right. I'm only going to Uncle Harry's for a little while. You can come to visit me as often as you want." 

"But I don't understand why I just can't stay all the time. I won't be a bother; I'll help you and make sure you're safe," he responded with tears in his eyes. 

"Ry," Draco growled. "Your mother will be as safe as she'll ever be. Harry Potter is Head Auror, remember. I told you, Cae, and Archer that earlier this morning. It means he knows how to keep people safe, and, as your mother is his best friend, I highly doubt she'll be in any danger." 

Rigel looked up at Hermione and said, "But I'll miss you too much." 

Draco and Archer rolled their eyes in unison, and Cae just chuckled from his spot before saying, "But we can visit mummy as much as we want like she said." 

Just then Alexander crawled in with Berry and immediately reached for Draco whining, “ Daddy”. 

Draco stooped to place Hugo on the rug beside Cae and took Alexander. It became apparent to all of them that Alexander was developing some sort of separation anxiety when he wasn't in close proximity to Draco. Hermione theorized it was the result of not seeing Lucious as much as they normally did.   

Archer frowned from Alexander to Rigel, who both held onto a parent like their lives depended on it. " I think that Rigel has caught whatever Alexander has, or vice versa". 

Hermione squinted at him once then turned back to Rigel, who turned mutinously at his brother. "Are you saying I'm sick?" 

"I was only making an observation," Archer quipped back, making Hugo giggle from his spot on the floor. 

"Woulds mistress like her breakfast? Tinzy has packed her overnight bags, and its is waiting for mistress downstairs," Tinzy said. 

Rigel let out on long wail just as it appeared Draco seemed to have enough and said, "Okay, Rigel Malfoy. It’s time you and I had a little talk." 

He plopped Alexander down next to Hugo and frog-marched Rigel out of the room with Archer and Cae in tow.  

Hermione, for her part, clapped a hand to her cheek as she watched them leave then turned back to her silent twins. 

"Ry isn't acting like a Maw-foy, " Alexander explained as if to answer Hermione's unspoken question. 

She giggled before asking, "And how does a Malfoy act?" 

"Arc-cer," Hugo answered back politely. 

Malfoy Manor, January 2004 

"Lucius, see reason, " Narcissa said to her husband as he stood in the dungeon of Draco's old potions lab. He was mincing mandrake root, something Narcissa knew had a myriad of purposes, including one to negate a pregnancy.  

"I'm doing this for Draco's family, 'Cissa, He'll thank me," he replied calmly as he continued to mince. 

"Lucius, you're wrong in this matter. Draco and Hermione are one unit in this, and Hermione will not thank you for murdering her child. I know you may think you are doing them a service, but, in this province, I must object. Have you considered that Hermione and Draco may have come up with a way or alternative to solve this? It's not like you to act so rashly." 

Lucius sighed heavily and looked up at Narcissa, placing his knife down on the cutting board. "I am doing this for their benefit. Do you not think that my ancestors didn`t try to find a way out of this? There's no solution to this besides abandonment or death, and however much it pains Hermione and Draco in the short-run, it will benefit them in the long-run. Should they wish to have another child after this they can, but now they know the risks. It is my fault that I didn`t counsel Draco and tell him what to expect as my forebears told their sons, but at present, there`s nothing we can do except try to deal with this. I`m making this solution to give to a medi-witch from St. Mungo`s to administer to Hermione when she`s in active labour. All they will know is that the delivery went wrong, as magical births tend to do from time to time, at no fault of the medi-witch or mother." 

"Just so I am clear, you are trying to blind-side Draco and Hermione into thinking they lost their child at the hand of chance? Do you not know your son and how inquisitive he is? He will investigate this and find your fingerprints all over this. Lucius, any way you play your hand you will end up losing. Draco will kill you for this. Do you want your son to go to Azkaban for the sake of your family`s pride? And how in Salazar did you manage to convince a medi-witch to murder an innocent child?" 

"I paid her a lofty sum of galleons. She's retiring at the end of the month, and the money I gave her will more than pay for a quick relocation should she need it. I also offered to obliviate her after the deed is done. As for Draco, to reiterate, he will be cross with us now, ‘Cissa, but he will realize that we did this for his own good." 

Narcissa looked stricken at this. "You're willing to go against your son's wishes, potentially destroy his marriage, and rob your grandchildren of a sibling. Let me make this clear: there is no we in this." 

"See reason, ‘Cissa! Those boys won't miss having a monster for a sister." 

"Lucius Malfoy, you clearly have lost your mind, and until you have seen sense, I will be staying with Andromeda," she said quietly, then turned on her heel and strode away, wiping an angry tear from her face as she went. 

Potter Manor, January 2004 

Hermione relaxed back into the plush chair with a cup of raspberry tea while Rigel sat with Draco and Harry on the couch across from her. 

"Are you sure you'll be okay without me, mummy?" Rigel asked quietly, large amber eyes staring at her. 

"Mate, I told you your mother is in good hands. Lily won't let anything happen to her will you, sweetheart?" Harry said, smiling at his daughter who sat on the rug between them colouring. She looked up at her father sweetly then shook her head. 

Rigel frowned and turned to Draco. "But I can come as often as I want, right?" 

Draco scrubbed his hands over his face and nodded. "Yes Ry, I told you at least a dozen times already." 

"Draco," Hermione reprimanded softly, then turned her attention to her son and said, "Honey, please don't be upset. It hurts mummy to be away from you just as much as it hurts you. I'll be back at home before you know it and you'll have so much fun at home with your brothers and with Daddy that you won't even notice I'm gone." 

Rigel’s lip trembled as he replied," I will." 

Draco groaned as Harry laughed and clapped a hand to his back. "Mate, I think you've got yourself a Hufflepuff." 

Hermione laughed. 

Azalea strode into the living room just then with James Sirius and flopped down beside Hermione. "I have a guest room set up for you on the first floor, just so you don`t have to climb the stairs. I also have the house-elves working to convert the sunroom into your delivery suite. I believe your healers will be arriving within the week to get you ready. Are you sure about that muggle method of birth...a caesarian, is it?" 

Hermione turned to Draco and nodded. They both agreed they would rather have a scheduled caesarian so Azalea and Harry knew when to be prepared to start the ritual that would make Hermione’s daughter a Potter.  

"Yes, it's very safe. I promise you. I’m really glad the healers from Mungo’s know how to do it. Who did you say the head healer will be?" 

"Oh, she’s an older lady, going to be retiring shortly after this. I think you’ll like her. She's famed for the healing tonics and salves she brews for labour." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was reviewed by Chanda Williams! xo


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